


The Dying Garden

by Milarussu



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Background Jackie/misty, Bisexual female v, Canon-Typical Violence, Changing the ending for better feels, Drinking, F/M, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Tags and rating are subject to change as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarussu/pseuds/Milarussu
Summary: A look at V's relationship with her companions and friends over the course of the game."She doesn't die quiet, no she dies with a crack of thunder."
Relationships: Female V/Jackie Welles, Female V/Viktor Vector
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110





	1. Snuff

“I still press your letters to my lips

And cherish them in parts of me that savor every kiss

I couldn't face a life without your lights

But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight

So save your breath, I will not care

I think I made it very clear

You couldn't hate enough to love

Is that supposed to be enough?

I only wish you weren't my friend

Then I could hurt you in the end

I never claimed to be a saint

Ooh, my own was banished long ago

It took the death of hope to let you go”

-“Snuff”, Slipknot

Jackie watches as V takes a hit to the diaphragm, wind knocked from her lungs. She is a tiny thing and that blow had been massive. Feet flying up in the air, she topples. It was like one of the old cartoons. To think the only thing that could stop her was a hit from a sixteen year old streetrat who landed a lucky shot. The kid darts off. With him goes their info. Jackie walks down the street and grins like a fool. Peering down at her, he can see she is still trying to catch her breath.

“Wow V,” He says to her and offers a hand. Delicate fingers grip his own as he pulls her upright. Opening her eyes, she glares at him. The scar through her lip pulls uncomfortably.

“Not a word Jack, not a single word.” He dusts her off, hands brushing away grime. He can feel her ribs through her thin t-shirt. Still not eating enough. The thing is, that V is a tortoise. Everything moves slow. The only exception being her mind. Food and rest are rare things. They take their toll.

“V,” He growls and she freezes, “Your comin’ to Mama’s with me. Get some food in that belly,” He barks. Her face softens, lips tugging into a soft smile. She presses her forehead to his shoulder, letting it rest for a moment. It was their silent way of acknowledging one another. Their vast difference in height meant she couldn’t reach to press her head against his own. So he does it for her. All the tension in her body bleeds away and is left with a calm peace. She smells like cigarette smoke and the vodka she’d drank before the job.

“I am going to fucking kill that streetrat if I every get my hands on him.” She huffs. Jackie chuckles, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and leads her away from the scene.

\--

There is something about her that isn’t quite right. Not in a bad way. Some edges are too hard, while others are far too soft. Jackie knows she had a shady past, got more than enough scars to prove it. First time he sees them, they’re with Viktor. It is for a bit of sparring and nothing more. As she lifts her shirt over her head, both men pause. V doesn’t notice. Her back to them. There are deep set scars from flesh being torn open repeatedly. Each line is a different length; one long tear stretches from shoulder to beneath her waistband. Those kinds of scars are familiar. Flesh torn from a leather belt aches on his own arm as he gazes at her body. The cruelty that would have taken...he doesn’t want to think about it. So instead he looks at her tattoos; twisting vines, flowers and mandalas decorate her skin. He had been there for a few of the ones on her arm. A cluster of daffodils are nestled at the base of her neck. The skin is still healing around the ink. As V turns he finds himself blinking, eyes tearing away to look at the floor. Viktor is watching, eyes gleaming. 

V hits like a freight train and has the stubbornness of an ox. There is a rare and natural battle sense inside that mind. Jackie remembers the first time she hit him. Cold cocked him straight to the jaw. He had deserved it too. Despite having no metal in her hands, he felt like he might be spitting teeth. Viktor dodges expertly, weaving. V dances with him, her smaller frame making her fast and difficult. They have barely tapped one another, not trying to hurt. They look good, he realizes. It is a slap to the face. Oh Viktor would swear up and down he had no interest in V. He would cock an eyebrow, but Jackie knows. Deep in the doc’s heart is a soft spot for her. Jackie can’t be jealous. Misty is at home waiting and wanting. Maybe in another life he would have met V sooner. She accidentally throws a punch too wide and leaves herself open. Viktor taps his knuckles to the ribs. Both stop and look at one another. Jackie crosses his arms and just watches; they burst into laughter over their reactions to the gentle tap. Once again Jackie quashes those feelings back into the box they had sprung from.

\---

He finds her leaning against the wall. Jacket shredded, buck shot frames her body like a halo. Her eyes are open, but unseeing. Around her is roughly a dozen bodies, all flatlined. Blood stains the hem of her pants. A leaking body shrouding her own in crimson. They’d fought something fierce the day before. He could tell she’d been furious when V didn’t show for their weekly chill session. When she had called, he’d let it go straight to voicemail. It had been petty. Then he’d heard her voice, weak and begging for help. Now he was staring at the splash of blood behind her. Moving forward he grabbed her under the knees and swung her into his arms. The bone of her clavicle is exposed, movement jolted but did not wake her. Jump starting, he darts out of the alleyway. There is panic creeping in. V’s breath is barely there. Sliding her into the passenger seat, he pauses to look at her face. Pale as a ghost. All that stands out is the harsh lines of her dark makeup. Death does not become her.

Misty sits opposite him, her eyes trained on her tarot cards. The Devil dances between her fingers. A horned woman with obsidian eyes glances back, clutching a vibrant red pill. V had drawn those cards, a present for Misty. It is not the typical style, lines unclear. Jackie’s knee bounces up and down, hands clasping together. 

“She’ll be alright,” Misty says and pats his cheek, her eyes soft and affectionate. It had been hours of waiting. The radio silence from Viktor did little to help the nerves. 

“How do ya’ know?” He asks and it comes out a bit too harsh, “God I could kill her myself for being so fuckin’ dumb.” Misty looks at him, smile soft and coaxing. God did he love the woman.

“Your journey isn’t done quite yet,” She tells him. Slow footsteps are making their way up the stairs. It isn’t long before V rounds the corner. Her shoulder is wrapped tight in a bandage and her eyes are glassy. There is the stench of anesthetic and Viktor’s soap. As he turns, Jackie doesn’t fail to miss the sorrowful look in Misty’s eyes. But as quick as it had appeared, it is gone in a flash.

“Misty,” V greets and he can hear how nervous she is in her wavering tone, “Sorry, but can I borrow Jack for a minute?” She doesn’t have the time to get comfortable. Jackie pushes off the wall and waves a hand to the back of the shop. Misty shoots V a sympathetic glance.

The door to Misty’s shop slams shut and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from yelling. Turning, he picks V up and sets her atop a nearby crate. Too frail. Now they are eye to eye. Hers are foggy from the drugs, a little bloodshot. Jackie cups both of her cheeks.

“Sorry Jack,” She murmurs, “Thought I could handle it alone,” That’s the thing about V. She always blames herself more than anyone else could. Jackie, well he is just thankful she’s back and breathing.

“What are we chica?” He questions firmly. She flinches slightly, and her hand comes to grip his forearm. The grip is so very weak.

“A team,” She answers, “Familia,” She states a second later and the accent is atrocious. Jackie presses their foreheads together. It might look like a gesture of romance, but it’s not. That would be too simple, an injustice. It says so much more than anyone could take a gander to understand. It says  _ it’s alright _ ,  _ I understand _ , and  _ hush now  _ all at once.

“That’s right,” He tells her, “So when I say that we’re not doing a job, we don’t do the job.” They stay like that for a moment. She is falling asleep against him, head heavy. Jackie picks her back up and carries her down the stairs tenderly. Viktor makes eye contact as he carries her in. Jackie deposits her into a nearby recovery bed. After a few minutes her eyes close. Jackie brushes the hair out of her face and leaves her to rest.

Viktor is watching closely. His eyes are hidden behind his shades, yet Jackie can feel the weight of the gaze. Sitting down on the nearest chair, he pulls out his flask and takes a drink. It's tequila and it burns going down. The old ripper twists in his chair. Rolling over, he extends a hand and takes the flask.

“Did you know,” He takes a swig and pauses, “That flowers have meanings. Old language. Now dead. But if you do your research, it could lead you to some interesting discoveries. Do you know what daffodils mean, it is rather interesting.” Viktor looks at V and it is a tired glance. A glance that says so much more than words ever could. Jackie shakes his head.

“No clue, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.” The old ripper looks back at him and pulls off his glasses. It is rare that Viktor is hard or hash, but the line is there today. Lips pressed together, he remains silent for a moment before speaking to Jackie.

“They stand for regard and joy,” That all seems inconsequential, “And unrequited love,” That last bit is tacked on with emphasis. Jackie freezes in place and his eyes meet Viktor’s.

“Vik-” He is cut off by a raised hand. Viktor Vector is staring him down and not giving an inch of wiggle room.

“She’s fragile Jack. Don’t tempt her with something she can never have. I know you got feelings in the mix too, don’t even try and deny it. Getting real tired of picking up the pieces,” Viktor finishes and hands the flask back. Jackie sits there and feels empty.

\---

V is in a dress that hugs her curves. Her leg sits atop the coffee table as she straps up her garter belt. Fine silk and muted colors look good on V; every part of that dress is a nice accent to more prominent assets. They’re in the fancy Arasoka hotel. It is the single greatest thing either of them has ever seen. The lap of luxury is foreign and cold. On the table sits a few shooters. He’s had two and she’s had three. 

“You plannin’ on seducing Yorinobu if we get caught?” He says gruffly. She flips her hair over her shoulder and narrows her gaze. The mass of violet curls is eye-catching. Dressed in corpo attire, she looks damn nasty. It hardens her softer edges. She is made for simple clothes, comfortable ones, not the shit she’s squeezed into now. The light is fading from the sky. Sunset lights the room in flames. Shades of orange and red reflect off of hard metal.

“No Jackie, this outfit is a pain in the ass. I’m gonna have words with Dex when we get back. I start running, no way these things are stayin’ up. So it’s not about sex appeal. It's practical.” He gets a real eye full as she bends to pick up her discarded knife. Leave it to V to sneak a steak knife off of their dinner plate. For a moment he drinks it in. The image of her bathing in the fading sun. She’s beautiful. This job, if they did it right, would have them set up for life. If it went to shit, well they were inevitably fucked. Standing, he comes up behind her; she’s so small, so fierce. He places his hands on her hips and she freezes like she’s been shot.

“Pretend with me, just for a movement.” He pulls her back against his chest and her head rests in the indent of his shoulder.

“Jackie,” She lets out a warning that is far too soft. Her voice is breathy and filled with something neither one of them wants to acknowledge.

“Just pretend.”

He turns her in his arms and her eyes won’t meet his own. This close he can smell her perfume. Jasmine and vanilla. Tipping her chin up, he gives himself a moment to study her face. V is unsure. Eyes find his nose, his chin, his ears, and even his lips. Yet they never quite meet his gaze. With a glance towards the radio, he plays them a tune. It's slow and soft jazz. He moves one hand from her hip to her hand and sways them to the music. Her body follows, material of her dress rubbing against his skin. 

“I can’t do this,” She says and there is hurt in her voice. Jackie grips her hip tighter. She wants to fight, he can tell. Leaning in, he presses his cheek close to her own.

“We might die tonight Andrea Valorie,” He whispers in her ear, “So let’s enjoy the moments we never got to have.” The words melt her, but there is still a hesitance. V still won’t meet his eyes.

“Jack, I love you and I’m pretty sure you know that.” She shifts her own grip and her breath caresses his neck, “But I am not a home wrecker and I love Misty too much to be doin’ this.” There are nerves that shouldn’t be there, not between the two of them. What they have is simple. No need for words. Jackie leans away and cups her cheek. Can smell the liquor on her breath. V’s eyes finally meet his and they are lit with something more than desire.

“We talked about it, Misty and I.” He sways and their hips brush. For a moment she looks horrified. Jack soothes it by rubbing her cheek. At that she pulls back, far enough to seem threatened.

“Well, it always feels so good to be second best.” Her words are bitter and fraught with something terrible, “I will not survive it Jackie. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His girl always has to fight, doesn’t know how else to live.

“Not about you, about the job.” He yanks her back towards him, “Misty ended it, couldn’t wait up for a dead man walking.” She breathes in heavily. 

“Then what are we pretending for?”

Her back hits the wall and she moans. A beautiful sound. His lips are on her neck, teeth grazing skin. V’s hands are searching. They slip under his fancy suit jacket and yank at the material of his button-down. She looks up at him, eyes burning and lips parted. Jackie’s own hand dives under the material of her dress, hoisting it up. Under it is that cursed garter belt. 

“I changed my mind.Remind me to thank Dex for the...added bonus,” He pauses to say. V is warm and inviting, coaxing him back to her body with a coy look. Jackie catches her smirk a quarter of a second too late. Fingers are at the buckle to his belt and yanking it open. Her hands sink in and it’s his own moan that echoes in the room. Her hands wrap around his cock and for a moment he sees stars. Jackie bites her neck in retaliation before moving between her breasts. Yanking her hands away, he pins them to the wall at her sides. Slowly he makes his way down her body. Her head tips back. The black lace underwear are a nice touch. He rips them away and buries his head between her legs, calf thrown over his shoulder.

\---

“Jackie c’mon!” She’s got his face clutched between her hands. He is torn between the numbness spreading through his body and the desperation on her face. The dress is torn, blood staining the fabric. One of V’s arms is broken. Adrenaline is still pumping heavy, so it is quickly forgotten. The lights are blinding as they move through the city. 

“Oh shit V,” He gasps. It is the end, at least for him. She’s gonna live big, make it out alive. That he knows for a fact. Reaching up, his hand slides down her cheek to her neck. Blood smears. Her eyes are wild and the breath inside her chest is coming in short bursts. Jackie leans in, lips to her to her ear.

“You’re gonna be rich V,” She grips him tight and her nails bite in. Frantically she turns to Delamain and punches the seat.

“Get us to a ripper!” She screams. Jackie doesn’t hear the reply. For a moment the world blurs. All he can see is her. Dressed in a golden dream and covered in blood she looks perfect. Damn the city had burned too bright for them. Time slows and he thinks about what might have been if they’d had more time.

“We. Jack, we, are gonna be rich!” She is desperate, he can hear it in her voice. Tears are starting to leak out from the corners of her eyes. Reaching up, he slots out the biochip. With a bloody hand he slips it into her neural port. For a moment her eyes flash blue.

“Look after Mama and Misty for me,” He chuckles, “Misty, she always knew.” V lets out a cry that feels like more of a call to battle than a mourning wail. Jackie smirks, one hand clutching his gut, and kisses her cheek.

"I love you." He lets himself savor the smell of her skin one last time,“I’m sorry,” He gasps out. Slow and sure the world fades around him. Death isn’t darkness, it’s warm and full of light.

\---

V stares at Dexter. The thin material of her dress is too revealing in the moment. They’d had their spat. He accused her of homicide and she accused him of incompetence. She wasn’t a fool. V knew the dismissal to the bathroom was a pleasantry that was entirely unnecessary. The drying blood on her face and neck cracked like macabre war paint. His shades were off, eyes scanning for compliance. V uncrossed her arms and spread her arms wide.

“What the fuck are you waiting for Dex? No need to spare my feelings,” She snarls, “We both know how this ends. Just get it over with. You rigged this in your favor from the start,” Vitriol spills out with every word. Misty had been right. So had V. Cutting them loose had always been a possibility. With such a botched job she didn’t blame Dexter for this level of coverage. It was simply bizz. That didn’t stop the rage she felt boiling.

“On your feet or on your knees?” Dex asks her and presses the barrel of his gun to her temple. V laughs and it is hollow. Meeting his gaze, she grabs his wrist tight and sure. Jackie’s face flashes before her eyes.

“On my feet Dex,” V looks him in the eyes, “Would hate to die quiet.” His lips quirk slightly. She doesn’t die quiet, no she dies with a crack of thunder.

\---

Misty lays her head on V's shoulder. Together they sit side by side in Jackie's garage. Both them had been crying for what seemed like ages. It was all a mess. Mama Welles had her offrenda. This was their own private memorial for him.

"He would be so pissed if he saw us like this." V holds Misty a little tighter. Incense burns in the corner of the room and low music plays. Misty turns her head, eyes wandering over V's face.

"Nah, Jackie would have loved all the attention." She laughs and it draws one out of V too. Since V had been brought to Viktor's clinic half-dead and still dying, her relationship with Misty had flourished. That first night, the two of them confronted some hard truths. Neither one of them was upset with the other. Both of them had gotten Jackie, just different parts.

"Let's just say here a little while longer," V says and lets the safety of sanctuary help her forget the city of neon and chrome.


	2. Plenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want it all," She laughs more freely than she has in ages, “The joy, the disappointment, the rage, the pain, the ecstasy. Because life is beautiful and I refuse to live at half-speed,”

“In the land of plenty

We don't know what the word no means

Give it to me

Give me all the things I want

Make it new and shiny

And make them watch me

Make them watch me

Turn the power on and wait for light

All the pleasures that you paid for

All the skipped turns that you saved for

All the nights you fell asleep without your gun

A coronation, a beheading

From the funeral to the wedding

Do you think they care where the crown goes?

Show the crowd you're happy

Like a movie, like a movie

What's your story? What's the refund policy?

We want violence, we want blood

We want superhero love

We want all the answers that you promised us

We want laughter, we want pain

Everyone will know our name

Did you know that no two missteps are the same”

\- “Plenty”, Aeseases

The first time Viktor Vector met V, she was a quiet barely there slip of a thing. As Jackie strode through the room, she was close behind and trying to stay out of sight. The lights were low, a necessity for installing someone with new optics. Jackie found the nearest seat, and she settled next to them. There was bruising on both their faces; she sat down far more tenderly than Jackie had, favoring the left side.

“I’ll be done soon,” He had told Jackie. The man waved him off. Viktor finished up with his current patient and sent him on his way. Washing his hands, he had stood and greeted Jackie properly. She had remained seated.

“Had a run in with the police last night,” Jackie tells him. Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor had watched as V set her nose with the assistance of a nearby mirror. “Check V first. They did a number on her,” And Viktor could tell. She was hiding her pain well. As he came to kneel in front of her, he noted broken skin on her knuckles and a bruise forming at her temple.

“V,” She had extended a hand to him and her voice had been so soft, “Thank you for seeing us,” She said and he could hear the nerves in her voice. Viktor had taken her hand in his own and shook it, feeling the delicate bones beneath the skin.

“Well V, let’s get you checked out.” And that had been the start to their friendship.

Now she sat in his chair with a gushing wound from a bullet graze to the temple. It had torn the flesh, ripped it open. V also appears to be concussed, considering she is laughing softly to herself. This one of the few times she has come in without Jackie. As he stitches the wound closed, Viktor notes that she is underweight. It's not Malnutrition, V is just too thin.

“Not my most shining moment,” She says with a grin. Viktor sighs and peers at her over the top of his glasses. Her eyes are sparkling with mirth. He realizes that whatever situation she had found herself in, V finds it amusing.

“You gonna tell me how you ended up here?” Viktor asks and cuts the end of the suture. V sits up and he can tell her head is swimming and that her ears are likely riddled with tinnitus.

“Stepped in between two Valentino boys,” She snorts, “Couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. Right at that age where everything pisses you off and every solution is violence. They had guns drawn on each other. Turns out all you need to get along is a lady trying to preach the path of peace. I became a united cause,” V laughs again and Viktor sets down his stitch scissors in disbelief. What she’d done was incredibly stupid.

“What on earth made you think that was a wise idea?” He asks and crosses his arms, “And V, you’re a mercenary. Violence is the solution to most of your problems,” He tacks on at the end. She turns her head, cheek resting on her shoulder. Her eyes are so soft as she looks at him.

“Grew up in Heywood, you know?” She says and her voice is softer than he’s ever heard it, “I know what drives kids to violence like that, know how toxic it can be. We don’t need another mama waiting for her baby to come home only to find he’s been shot and left out on the streets like trash.” Viktor finds himself giving pause and considering the compassion in that thought. Most girls who grow up in Heywood are crass and just as rough as their male counterparts. V’s got a softness that is unexpected. Viktor passes her an inhaler. She doesn’t question it, just takes a huff. 

“Well next time,” He leans in to press a fist to her shoulder, “Don’t give them chance to shoot you. Knock the brats out cold. You got people who are waiting for you too,” She smiles again, and nods her head in thanks.

\---

“Vik!” Jackie screams from the top of the stairs. From the tone of his voice, Viktor can tell this is an emergency and not a social call. Darting up the stairs, he meets Jackie half way. V is clutched in his arms. Her left shoulder and clavicle are completely shredded by buckshot, arm dangling uselessly. Viktor is not blind to the panic in Jackie’s face. 

“Get her downstairs now!” He tells him. Shoving open the gate, Viktor beelines for the sink and washes his hands. Drying them quickly, he returns to his patient. V is pale, skin covered in a cold sweat.

“I’m going to kill her,” Jackie says and his brow is completely furrowed. Viktor shoves him out of the way and gestures for the door.

“Get out,” He growls, “I don’t need you breathing down my neck while I work. She’s going to be fine Jack, just need space to do my job.” He doesn’t watch the man go, but hears the gate slide closed. It was more than just needing room. V is a private person and he was going to have to remove quite a bit of clothing to get at the wound. Shears in hand, he cuts away the cloth of her shirt and jacket. Lifting, he removes the cloth away from bloodied skin. The bone is completely shattered and the buckshot is still embedded deep into the flesh. Viktor quickly administers a stim to slow the bleeding. She’s going to need a lot of metal and rest time to recover any semblance of use in that arm. So Viktor gets to work. He’ll make sure she’s one step closer to unbreakable. 

When he’s finished, Viktor stares at his handiwork and frowns. Her entire chest is bandaged. Her right arm is exposed to the air and he finds himself studying the flowers inked into the skin. A blue rose with falling petals and a sunflower are on the bicep. Hollyhock, lavender, and dozens more are all over the skin. After their time in the gym, he took the time to research what they could mean. Flowers were a rare thing, extinct in the surrounding environment. What he found was an entire language long dead. V’s entire body was a road map of stories unspoken, but worn openly on her sleeve. There were tales of love and loss, even joy. The daffodils at the nape of her neck had been of interest, new and still healing. Unrequited love. It didn’t take a genius to know who those were for. No, those two were about as obvious as a person could be. Misty knows too. He’s seen it in her face while she watches them. But what Viktor knows is that V adores Misty and loves Jackie. She’s a good woman and those feelings will stay buried. It’s Jackie that Viktor worries about. The man has never had the good sense just to leave things where they lie. 

It’s not fair to V. That she loves a man that loves her back just as much, but belongs to someone else. Their spat had caused this, because both of them are unreasonably petty and stubborn. It’s not fair to Misty. Viktor’s been around long enough to know that whatever ending those three have, it won’t be pretty. When he lectures Jackie, he sees it first hand. Viktor can see the hard lines of Jackie’s face when he mentions the reality of the situation. Can tell that the words are eating him from the inside out. Because if neither one of them will put it out in the open, Viktor will. He dismisses Jackie and goes back to working. Fiddling with mechanism on his tools, researching, and occasionally glancing back at the patient. He’s deep in thought when she stirs.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Are the first words out of her mouth. She is blinking and still drowsy. Her mass of loose copper curls are surrounding her face like molten iron. Viktor wheels over to her and plants a gentle hand on her forehead. The bandages are still stark white and free from blood. A good sign.

“Easy does it,” He soothes and checks her vitals. She’s put on weight, so her constitution is improving. Her good hand comes up to rest atop his own. V’s eyes are tired, so tired. 

“So how much do I owe you?” She asks and he feels her relax under his touch. Viktor huffs and brushes the hair away from her face. 

“Nothing,” He grunts out. Those eyes turn shrewd. Honestly he should have known better than to try and swing that one past her. He can tell the wheels are turning in her head. There’s a ping and his optics inform him of a 40,000 edie account transfer. Viktor sighs, and helps her stand. Pulling his jacket off the chair, he slings it over her shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.”

\---

It’s half-past two in the morning when he gets the call. V’s face lights up behind his eyelids. Blurry eyed he answers the phone. He can hear a hail of gunfire and yelling in the distance.

“Hey Vik!” She greets and he can hear the tension in her voice, “Let’s say you have a patient that has just been shot in the upper thigh and is bleeding profusely. I know Jackie!” He hears her snarl out. Viktor sits up in bed.

“Have you used a tourniquet on the wound and administered medication?” V is a competent field medic when need be. He hears the familiar click of an inhaler. Good girl, he thinks to himself.

“Yes, but trauma is five minutes away and she doesn’t have a lot of time.” He can hear her wrestling with something. Viktor thinks about the normal clothing V usually wears on her person.

“Use your jacket and apply pressure, hard pressure. Also have an airhypo ready in case they flatline and be ready to start manual chest compressions should the need arise. I’ll stay on the phone with you until trauma arrives,” He tells her. V keeps him on the line and he can hear her whispering soft words to her patient. Gentle encouragement and sound reassurance.

“Trauma is here. Thank you Vik,” She breathes out, “I’ll stop by tomorrow, bring you something nice.” She hangs up the phone. Viktor used to sleep through the night and then V had come tumbling into his life.

It’s seven in the morning when she shows up, sleepy and covered in blood that isn’t her own for once. She greets Viktor with a smile and a hug. He can smell smoke in her hair. For a moment she leans into him and he can feel the cold clinging to her clothing. Winter in night city could be brutal, she just carried it in with her. Settling back against his desk, she pulls her pack off. Viktor comes to rest next to her. A bottle of whiskey is deposited into his hands, top shelf. 

“I know that I had that pretty much handled, but thank you Viktor.” He sets the bottle down on the desk and looks at her. She’s a head shorter than him, lithe. Under her shirt is a bulletproof suit, the high neck peeking out. V's appearance is deceptive; she's muscular and fit, not a wilting flower. 

“V,” He murmurs and hands her a textbook, “If you want to learn, I would be more than willing to teach you. Plus between how often I see you and Jackie, it is imperative that one of you gets more formal medical training.” She takes the book and opens its worn pages, handles it with reverence. Real books are as rare as her flowers.

“I’d love that Viktor,” She states with a smile. Viktor clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Are you injured?” He asks her and she laughs. It’s a full sound filled with warmth. She raises her hands and he can see bloodied knuckles. Broken capillaries make it look far worse than it really is. 

“As you can see doc, nothing major.” She pats his cheek gently, “I’m going to delta, dead on my feet and I desperately need a shower.” V picks up her pack and slings it back over her shoulder.

“Until next time,”

\---

At first he thinks it’s an illusion, a mirage. V is standing a little ways away. Yet it can’t be her, this girl is too dressed up. Well in all actuality barely dressed is a better description. Not enough metal or leather. It is the glimpse of familiar flowers that tells him all he needs to know. She hasn’t noticed him, but he is certainly seeing her. The man she is talking to is clearly corpo, everything about him screams money. But Viktor isn’t watching him. No, his eyes are trained on her, her hands specifically. She’s on a job, he realizes as her fingers dart into the oblivious man’s pockets. Her fingers dance out and a tuck away something made from glittering metal. And she does it with a smile on her face, coy and inviting.

V had told him once that the key to being a good thief was not always to go unnoticed, but to make sure you kept their gaze exactly where you wanted it. The fool didn’t realize that he was dealing with a notorious pickpocket and master thief. Viktor could guess what the man wanted based off of where his gaze fell to her plunging neckline. She offered him a few more words, before dismissing herself to the bar. Viktor watched and felt a bit smug. V wasn’t the type of girl to go for flashy.

He stays in his quiet corner, just watching. She drinks, she mingles, and most of all she erases any suspicion of her crime. She moves through the crowd finding other partners to laugh with and tease. Then she sees him from across the bar and her smile grows radiant. He stands to greet her and offers her the shot he had long since neglected.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Her voice is rough from talking over the music and the hard liquor. Viktor chuckles and leans back in his chair. The dress is slinky and black, her long legs sit crossed over one another.

“You’re putting on quite the show tonight V,” He leans his head in the direction of her pocket. For a moment she flushes red, cheeks burning with the color. Theoretically her past shouldn’t bother her. V is an intelligent woman and a talented mercenary. Yet there are times when her humble roots do seem to sit uncomfortably under her skin. She’s a Heywood girl, born and bred. There are certain things that don’t just go away overnight. Including the insecurity when things are starting to go just a little too well.

“Saw that did you?” She's sheepish and tucks her chin to her chest, “Man I must be getting rusty,” Viktor shakes his head.

“Nah, I just happened to be paying attention.” V takes the time to meet his gaze for a moment, thoughts formulating behind her eyes are a bit worrisome. 

“Come home with me,” She says and he feels himself freeze. Almost immediately her brows shoot up her forehead and she shakes her head violently. “I don’t mean like that! Not that you’re not an attractive man. Just be my cover so I can leave. An alibi. Oh fuck me,” She groans and the flush is back. Viktor stands and helps V to her feet; it’s endearing how embarrassed she is. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he leads them to the entrance. Leaning down he presses his cheek to the side of her head.

“Don’t worry V,” He murmurs, “We’ll give them a show.”

Night City is surprisingly quiet, not even a belligerent drunk to bother them. V starts to fidget with her dress as they walk along, and it’s not long before she’s kicking off her heels. Her bare feet pad across the concrete. Far away from the bar, she seems to breathe easy. Slowly but surely winter is coming to a close, the wind lacks any real bite.

“Where’s Jackie?” Viktor asks. V’s face instantly goes slightly steely and he regrets how he worded it. She’s all tension as they make their way through the streets.

“We agreed that I could do this one on my own. Plus I reminded him that he’s missed his last four dates with Misty. That girl deserves sunshine and rainbows with a side of romance. Not whatever the hell has crawled up his ass lately,” Her tone and posture are ridged, but he appreciates the thought. Viktor pulls up his scanner and takes her vitals on impulse and notes that his hunch had been right. V is suffering from sleep deprivation and her nervous system is being overtaxed. There had been a new job every time he’d spoken to her in the past two weeks.

“You gotta slow down V,” He stops her and makes sure to emphasize it with a firm grip on her bicep, “This much work, running on a couple hours of sleep is going to put you in an early grave.” She pulls what she retrieved out of the man’s pocket and places it between her fingers. A small silver band with a delicate stone is placed into his palm. A wedding band.

“I almost passed this job on. Some rich bitch wanting to catch her husband in the act,” He places it back into her pocket, “But considering that was my estranged sister’s lying and cheating husband, I made an exception. Got the job through a fixer, didn’t even realize who it was for until I saw her name. We don’t talk much and I never met him, just saw photos. She moved out of Heywood the second she could. Smart girl. Got plenty of footage over the last couple days too. She’ll ruin his ass.” V loved what remained of her family, that Viktor knew. He moved his hand to her neck and squeezed gently.

“One week, no work. You rest and recover,” He orders, “Slow down V. From one busybody to another, rest. Pretty soon your age will catch up with you,” Viktor warns. V surprises him by placing a kiss on his cheek; he’s sure her lipstick leaves a mark.

“Stop worrying Vik, I’ll be around for a long time to come.”

\---

She’s unconscious and barely, just barely alive. He feels himself take a deep breath with her as her chest rises and falls. He remembers the moment he opened the taxi door and found her. How much blood and filth covered her skin and clothes. Damn Dexter Deshawn to hell. First Jackie had showed up at Mama Welles’ house, dead from a bullet wound and internal bleeding. Then V, shot in the head, was delivered to his door step. Sadly the bullet was the least of their issues. Bad news was never easy to give. Over the years there had been death, paralysis, and more troubling events. Yet this was the first time he felt like he was going to have to force the words out of his mouth. That chip is a curse. A nuclear bomb, primed and ready to detonate. The engram is Johnny Silverhand's, a terrorist. It’s the cruelest fate he can imagine for someone like V. Misty has closed shop for the day and is working quietly next him. Her fingers are working with metal and leather. Viktor is thankful for the companionship and he’s guessing Misty doesn’t want to be alone either. Her fingers are dancing over the bullet he’d pulled from V’s skull.

“I’m going to make something beautiful out of it,” And for the first time, her voice isn’t wavering. Viktor turns and watches her work. It takes time, to bend and twist leather and metal. In the end she’s right, it is beautiful. Life is so very precious and Viktor is happy to be reminded of it.

V is semi-conscious, her brain still healing. Those eyes occasionally open, but aren’t really seeing what’s around her. Viktor stands over her and he prays. Prays that this city didn’t rob her of all that she holds dear. Jackie is gone, and that is a fire that will never add warmth to his home again. Soon neither will V. Viktor steps outside and breathes in the cool night air. Years ago, he quit smoking cigarettes. A nasty habit. Yet it feels appropriate on occasions like this. The ones where there are no happy endings, no solutions. Night City is so fucking bleak. He could make people as close to unbreakable as possible, replace the failings of an organic body. But he couldn’t save the mind. That is what is so tragic about all this. He is a master at his craft, respected. Pretty soon it’ll just be him and Misty. There will be no more soft laughter, no more ridiculous injuries, or early morning visits. There will just be nothing. And that is a damned shame.

\---

V sits in the shower, the water pouring over her head and shoulders. It's been hours since she got in, anything to stop the demon that she can feel prodding the back of her mind. Nearby are the pills, in case anything pops up again. Everything about her feels wrong, like there is a parasite worming around her skin. In a way that analogy isn’t completely wrong.

“Oh fuck,” She murmurs and gets to her feet. Wrapping a towel around her chest, she steps into the cold and empty interior of her apartment. Everything is slowed, moving at half pace. For the first time in ages, she just lets herself wear something comfortable. Sweatpants and an over-sized hoodie. As she bends to pull on her boots, her head spins. The necklace around her neck is cold against the skin of her chest. There is so much to do. A list is forming, slowly but surely. Takemura, Mama Welles, Misty, and Viktor. If she’s only got so much time, she’ll make it count. V is angry and hurt. Kids on the streets don’t have a long life expectancy, and neither do mercs. All her life she had been prepared to die young. Technically she already has one trip beyond the veil under her belt. Now that the reality of another up and coming death is imminent, she’s so goddamn outraged by it. So she will not go quietly, no. V knows she’ll go out in a blaze.

\---

It’s been a week since she last saw Viktor. The ball is already rolling. Johnny is nearly a constant presence in her life and it has been a quick learning curve. Rumors have already started flying about the merc whose job got botched. V and Jackie already had a reputation as respected mercs. A botched job usually means a hit to the reputation. In V’s case it’s a little different. The fact that she managed to make it into and rob Arasoka, has earned her clout. She’s done more jobs in the last few days than she has in an entire month before the heist. Her name is on the lips of so many people it makes her head spin. All she really wants to do is see her friends. Sure they’d all seen each other at the ofrenda. That time hadn’t really been for them though. V hops on Jackie’s Arch and speeds down the street. The wind is whipping and dulling the sounds of the city. Viktor’s clinic is a short ride away. When she arrives, V bends to pet the small hairless cat that has taken up residence in the area. It rubs against her leg, purring. They must be the two loneliest creatures in night city. A singular cat on the brink of extinction and a woman living on borrowed time. A part of her is nervous to talk to Viktor, that she won’t find the right words. So she lets herself have a little hope and descends down the stairs.

The clinic is unchanged. It always smells like Viktor’s soap and metal. V didn’t realize that scent was a creature comfort until she is standing there. Viktor looks up and seems surprised to see her. The corners of his eyes crinkle up with his warm smile. He stands to greet her and V walks forward. It shouldn’t feel odd to reach out and hug the man. Despite that she feels unsure if it is welcome. Strong arms wrap around her, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.

“Here for a checkup?” He questions and his breath stirs her hair. V laughs and allows herself a moment before pulling away. She sets her bag on the floor, gear jostling.

“Sure if you have the time,” V states and moves to sit in the rolling chair next to him, “But I came for a check-in. Wanted to see how you’re doing.” Viktor remains standing and walks behind her. With gentle hands, he lifts her hair to check the surgical scar on the back of her head near the occipital bone.

“Sorry about the haircut,” He runs his fingers along the site to check for tenderness, “Didn’t have much time to do it properly.” V can hear the sadness in his voice as he speaks. She waves a hand at him and spins around. Standing once more, she removes his glasses so she can really get a look at his eyes. Carefully setting them down atop his desk, she looks up. What she finds is a bone deep sadness and so much anger that for a moment it’s hard to breathe. With both hands she cups his jaw.

“None of that,” She orders, “I am thankful and owe you my life Viktor. There is to be no guilt from you, none at all. You brought me back from the pearly gates and set me on the path of life again.” His hands come up to cover her own. This is a conversation he clearly does not wish to have.

“You deserve more than to be dead by twenty-seven,” His tone is gruff. V offers him a smirk and tightens her grip.

“Well I am working on the dying bit, have a couple of leads already. There are a lot of uncertain things right now. But what I am certain about is that I won’t go quietly, not if I can help it. Life is so very beautiful, so powerful. These weeks that I have, they are going to count. That way, in the end, if there is no solution at least I’ll be proud of how my story is told. I want it all,” She laughs more freely than she has in ages, “The joy, the disappointment, the rage, the pain, the ecstasy. Because life is beautiful and I refuse to live at half-speed,” She doesn’t know if it is the right thing to say, but she’s a little beyond caring. Viktor nods his head and gestures for her to sit back down. V smiles slightly to herself and lets him finish his exam. It's for his sake, not her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented, it is appreciated.


	3. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death leaves no beautiful corpses.

“ Nobody really cared, so it never really mattered

It never really mattered, so it never really happened

What's the point in fighting for a happy ever after?

The past keeps haunting the future, I imagine

All I ever wanted was a little peace and quiet

Just color in the lines, and you'll get it like they promise

If you bite the hand, get louder and defiant

Then you'll see how quickly they come making a deposit

What’s my identity

One false move, you're a Kennedy

If you fight it you're the enemy

I'm so sick, but I can't find a remedy

I'm still tryna find my identity ”

-“Identity”, Grandson

Something Johnny knows is that V is a liar. He can sense it in the way she smiles and how easily words appear on her lips. Hell he can taste the memories of half-truths and forgotten tales on her tongue. Confidence and outright charisma had fueled his ability to lure people in. V is more subtle. She makes herself seem like less of a threat with the swing of her hips, a sultry smile, and her soft voice. So many people are lured in at the prospect of a beautiful woman looking their way. It is obnoxious. She would have been his type. Dangerous and bad for your health, type. It was amusing for him, because he could feel who she was on the inside as well. It didn’t reflect the hard exterior of cold indifference she liked to put on. Chaotic and compassionate. If she had all the time in the world, she would help every low down and rotten soul in the city. Night City had chewed her up and spat her back out twisted and mangled. There are memories, memories he’s relived. Those were memories he did not like touching. Ones that sparked fear in his chest. A little girl powerless. Memories of a little girl who tasted blood and spat it back in the face of life. Those weren’t the memories someone like him should ever see.

Something else Johnny knows is that V is mourning the love of her life. The man, Jackie, sits behind her soul. The first memory he lived through was of Jackie dying. Could feel the agony and the panic. Desperation. Had felt how her frantic hands had searched for life in his fading corpse. When their awareness separates once more, it takes him a moment to realize that he is not mourning the loss too. It brings back his own unpleasant memories. She sees Jackie in every aspect of her life; pieces left behind are now mementos tucked away in the corners of her apartment. An old jacket. A bottle of tequila. A worn book. Pictures. It is all there and it digs the knife deeper. For a pleasant four days she goes on a bender, a good one too. Their bond is still fresh. She drinks tequila, throat burning. It gets to the point of blackout. She picks a fight, blades in her arms tearing men apart. She sleeps with a beautiful woman. He feels the soft skin and ecstasy. Gets to enjoy that. Gets to enjoy her hangover in the morning too. Johnny listens to her leave a voicemail, her voice quivers. He is surprised when she stands up and showers, washing away the events of the previous days. The heat from the water is delightful as it registers against his synapses. The aching pit in her heart is still there, but at least she’s angry now.

Something Johnny didn’t know is that V is a small woman. Her sheer force of will and presence made her seem bigger, more unstoppable. He made a mistake when he tried to provide helpful hints in combat. Told her to dodge at the wrong moment. Their timing is slightly off. Nursing a broken nose and looking in the mirror, he had taken the time to really study her. Most striking thing about her was her eyes, brilliant green and intelligent. Johnny flashes to the teenage girl staring into the mirror in disgust, Her optics weren’t truly personalized, a carbon copy of the originals. They were set into a round face, dusted with freckles. The nose is slightly crooked from repeated abuse. Full lips are settled into a pout; an old scar cut through the skin leaving her with a perpetual smirk. Modesty hadn’t really been an issue between them; growing up on the streets meant communal showers and bathing as a child. Her body is covered in ink, a garden. There is a sunflower on her bicep that he really took a liking to. The burn of a needle and a crimson chrysanthemum was added above her heart. A nice side benefit to sharing a body with a woman, is a great pair of tits. He had seen a lot of em’ in his day, so he could really appreciate the view. When she snapped her nose back into place, a few seconds later he could feel her eyes stinging and the pain. That part, yeah that he could live without. But for a small woman, she’s making bigger waves than expected.

Another thing he didn’t know, but was pleasantly surprised to discover, was that she was intelligent and observant. Her mind worked fast and performed at a capacity that he wasn’t quite used to. She understood the world, understood people too. Saw the beauty and tragedy of life and bore it no ill will. They shared thoughts and feelings, a two way street for information. It shocked him that his presence didn’t bother her much. No, in fact she seemed to relish in his company. Her mind wasn’t always kind, he learned as time passed. V had her demons. Too much alcohol and self-doubt caused a chaotic rift in her personality. At night when the quiet got too violent in her mind, he would sit and talk. His hands traced patterns on her back. It was an illusion of comfort. It seemed to make a difference, easing her into sleep. It was a shame really. They weren’t exactly friends, but he completed her soul. With her, he had a taste of what life could have been. And goddamn was it beautiful. Out of any of the minds he could have been linked with, he was glad it was her.

\--

“No,” She says and doesn’t even bother to look up from her book. For Whom the Bell Tolls sits open. An old tale of a life just as terrible as their own. It's mid-morning, the sun peaking over the top of the skyscrapers. The smell of coffee and mint soap fill the apartment. Nearby a pistol lays in pieces, forgotten scrap.

“What do you mean no?” He growls and takes a seat next to her on the couch. V’s installed mirrors all around the apartment so that he can actually see her. It makes interacting much easier. There’s far less communication issues when he can actually read her facial expressions. Right now she just looks irritated.

“I do not need to get laid,” She tells him and flips to the next page in the book. Johnny outright snorts and peers over the top of his glasses at her. To her credit she doesn’t bother to acknowledge his pestering. She is lying through her teeth and they both know it. 

“Fuck off with that bullshit,” He tells her and she finally snaps the book closed, “You’re all tense and grumpy. I can’t live like this.” There is also a large kink in her neck that is more than annoying. Swiping the bottle of vodka off the table, she pours it into her coffee. It was definitely more vodka than coffee, a woman after his own heart.

“I don’t got the time for that right now and I am not picking a stranger off of the streets,” She grumbles and walks to her weapons stash. The shotgun is her favored weapon, but packs a pistol just in case. They do have the time though. For a rare second there are no gigs or children in need of saving. Down time is apparently also work time now.

“All we have is time,” Johnny observes, “Guy or girl, doesn’t matter. Just figure out a way to solve your little problem.” He signs off in disgust.

Johnny hates going to the ripperdoc with V. It always smells too sterile. Plus the man who runs the place treats her like she’s made of fucking glass. It is all so unnecessary. Johnny has watched her skewer a man through the chest and walk away like it wasn’t the most fucked up way to kill the poor son of a bitch. Oh, and an uppercut from V could be seriously life threatening. So Johnny just doesn’t get why the ripper handles her like she’s going to fall apart in his hands. Hell the man has put the metal into V’s body, seen her fight. The ripper should know.

“How are things going with the engram?” The ripper, Viktor asks as he administers the anesthesia. V offers him a smile and tries to wiggle her fingertips. Johnny knows she can’t feel anything.

“Fine and dandy,” She replies with a chipper tone, “We get on well enough, though the last couple days have been a little rough. It’s kinda like being stuck inside your apartment with a roommate, and neither of you can leave.” Somehow that does make the situation seem a little more realistic. Except most roommates can’t hear each other’s thoughts and opinions. Viktor pauses and looks up from his work. It is a simple job, reinforcing the bones in her hands. 

“Do you two communicate?” His voice is breathy and disbelieving. V shrugs her shoulders and tries to wave him off. Johnny notices it then, in that exact moment. Seen the same look on Rogue’s face a dozen or more times. It’s adoration, love. Mixed in with a side of fury. And all Johnny can think is,  _ oh fuck.  _

Paying closer attention, he realizes that V is a dumbass. An intelligent woman, sure. Yet she also manages to hold the award for stupidest fucking person alive. That man is handling her like she is something precious and she’s too caught up in her own head to notice. It’s in everything. The tone, the touches, and quiet lectures. It is beyond strange to be on the outside looking in. Roommates was an apt description after all. Johnny debates whether or not to tell her, make his observations a little louder. There are a few things that are private between them, that the other doesn’t voice or know about. His private moments are with Kerry. V never asks, can feel the sanctity of those memories. For her it's all the time spent with Jackie. Those are no fly zones. This feels like something that should be said out loud. There’s this weird older brother instinct kicking in that complicates things, protective instincts. 

“I can feel you processing something,” V says out loud as soon as they’re alone. Johnny sighs heavily, of course she’d catch on.

“Just making some observations and remembering why I am eternally grateful that I wasn’t born a female,” He states. V snorts and looks at the metal joints of her knuckles and fingers. No fighting for a couple of days, at least until the stiffness wears off.

“Remembering how running with big tits is obnoxious?” She grumbles and Johnny lets out a laugh. There had been quite few adjustments along the way, not all of them amusing.

“No, just realizing you aren’t as clever as you think you are.” He jabs. V makes an insulted sound, but quickly quiets down when her ripperdoc reenters the room. 

\---

Getting chrome implanted always feels a bit like sitting on a limb for too long, moving, and realizing it’s numb. The implants and reinforcements are subtle, a personal request. It just looks like silver edging poking out from under the skin. At a first glance they’d be easy to miss.

“How much sleep you been getting?” Viktor asks and scans her body. Sleep has actually been relatively easy to come by as of late. 

“Depends on whether I am working or not. But…about six hours a night.” V rolls her shoulders, “And before you pipe up, that’s double from before.” Fingertips find her temple, the left side. They’re dancing over the puckered scar from where she’d been shot. 

“Your brain, physically speaking, is under immense stress. Not only is it trying to heal, but it's also competing with the engram. Have you noticed any symptoms: tremors, seizures, blurred vision, headache, nausea?” Viktor asks. V’s chin dips to her chest. How does she tell him that it is so much worse? There have been nights when it feels like every nerve is on fire. There are times when her hands won’t work, fingers locked in place or shaking. How does she tell him that coughing up blood is a regular occurrence?

“All of the above,” She tells him quietly. Viktor to his credit doesn’t try and console her. It wouldn’t do anything to help anyways. Instead he tips her chin up.

“Getting more sleep, resting, is going to help keep you on your feet for longer. Think of the engram as a virus, a nasty cold. If you're fighting a cold, staying awake for long stretches and drinking heavily isn’t going to help.” It’s funny but the simple touch is beyond comforting.

“I’ll try and get more sleep,” She acquiesces, “But you’d have to pay me a ridiculous amount of money to stop drinking, cause let me tell you facing this shit sober fucking sucks.” Viktor laughs and V’s heart is a little more at peace.

\--- 

“Johnny!” V pleads as her vision blurs. Blood runs from her mouth and nose. Everything is too quiet and muted, save for the tinnitus. Trying to catch herself, she reaches for a nearby chair and collapses to the floor. Metal clangs against the tile floor. Lights are blinding. For a moment there is only panic, undeniable and blinding panic. Johnny hovers over her and there is the sensation of hands cupping over her ears. This is it, V thinks. Oh it hurts so much. In that moment she thinks about destiny. As a young girl she never much believed in fate. Years of fighting against the flow rest on her belt. There were so many roads left untouched. So many people to say goodbye to. But the thing is destiny has led her down a path of destruction and pain. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll finally be at peace. No more gigs or horrifying missions. No more loss or disappointment. If death is the end, V is going to greet it with open arms. That’s the last lie she’ll ever tell herself.

\---

Johnny takes control and can tell that this is not in fact the end of V. No she’s resting at the back of his mind, exhausted. This time had been a lot. There are plenty of things he can handle. Feeling the fear of dying over and over again is getting old. Fast. The pain doesn’t go away. No it dulls to a throb across the entirety of the body. Everything is more vibrant. The lights, the sounds, and the smells all flood in. There are parts of V that feel really good, like the softness of her skin and hair. There are other parts that remind him of what this really is. For example the blood on her tongue, a familiar taste to him, is overwhelming. So are her emotions. For a man fueled by hatred, Johnny doesn’t quite know what to do with all of them. He stands on shaky legs and throws on the nearest jacket. It’s a leather piece, well tailored. If he’s going to keep V alive, he might as well do her a favor as well. Hell V will probably hate him come morning, but Johnny’s a master in dealing with angry women.

The ripper is sitting at his desk, eyes tracing various specs when Johnny flings open the gate. Surprise flickers on Viktor’s face. V had stopped by earlier in the day. Johnny surveys the man, notes the hard lines of the man’s jaw; there are worse options. At least this one isn’t a cop.

“V,” Viktor greets and stands up from his desk, “Are you injured?” He questions. Johnny cocks his head to the side. Cloves and ginger, that’s what V smells when she’s near the ripper. It’s a warm and comforting to smell. 

“V isn’t here right now,” Johnny says and leans against the wall. The concrete is cold against his skin. Viktor gets tense and his eyes narrow into slits. Johnny walks forwards and extends a hand. “Johnny Silverhand. V here collapsed in her apartment fifteen minutes ago. Third time this week.” Viktor blinks and takes his hand, shaking it in disbelief. Johnny notes that Viktor is angry.

“Sit down for me,” His voice is gruff and short. Striding forward, Johnny slouches into V’s favorite seat in the place. 

“It was bad this time,” Johnny explains, “Coughing up blood, ringing in the ears, synesthesia. The works,” Viktor is checking the body over. Searching for something, anything. It’s like seeing an entirely different man.

“Why didn’t she say anything while she was here earlier?” Viktor asks him. Johnny debates on how much he should really say. In the end he settles on the truth. For a man like the ripper, the truth is everything.

“Death isn’t proud. V is a lot of things, but she is fucking proud. She doesn’t want to leave this world quiet. No, she would rather leave a beautiful corpse and retain the little self-respect she has left.” He leans forward and crowds the other man’s space, “V lies Viktor. She’s goddamn terrified. Spitting up blood, collapsing in the middle of the day. She would rather spare herself the indignity of it all and suffer in silence than ask for help. Sacrifices comfort for privacy.” The words are digging in like a knife.

“Death leaves no beautiful corpses,” Viktor says to him and Johnny feels that in his bones.


	4. Champagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aldecaldos greet her with handshakes and hugs. It is early enough that the majority of the camp isn’t up yet. The sun is just barely peeking over the top of rolling hills. Everything is bathed in dusty pink and warm orange light. Some views are worth braving the horrors of the early morning.

“ But everybody bleeds right?

Everybody's waiting for the phone to ring

Yeah everybody seems fine

But everybody's got pieces missing

At minimum I'd like a little medicine to make me feel like everything

Diminishing the venom that been harshing all my mellows I'm continuing to fight against the sentiment that make me want to die

In a world full of uptight gentlemen I wanna find a boy smelling like sweet cinnamon to quote some Tennyson while we take Benadryl to make my head a bit extra light

I feel it, I want it

I need it, I love it

I'm looking for something

To make me feel nothing

I feel it, I want it

I need it, I love it

I'm looking for something

To make me feel nothing

Driving through the bay, pray for understanding

I'll be silent for a day, wait until I vanish and I'm fighting for a break, vacant kind of passion

Never really can account for all the ways in which I've acted

Tried to call my daddy but he's been gone a decade so I'm drinking like an addict til I'm fucking with a headache

Happiness sporadic so I'm crying on a Wednesday

Not trying to be combative but I'm dealing with some dead weight

Verbalize the hurt inside make me wanna burn alive

My heart was never broken it was circumcised ”

“Champagne”, K Flay 

V leaned against the concrete wall. Out of the corner of her eye two men were making their move. Both of them wore nondescript clothing. Their irons however were not too cleverly disguised in their waistbands. A silent threat. Tucked away in her own pocket was a single blade, nothing special. Scavs liked to make easy prey of the Heywood girls. In such a densely populated area they were a dime a dozen. No one missed them. At sixteen she’d seen more than a few girls go missing. It was a sad, but normal part of street life. 

“What the fuck do you want?” She growled and flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette. The taller of the two men crept into her space, crowding. He was deceptively handsome, not a scar on his face. The other was mousy and lean, deceptively non-threatening. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” He answers her question with one of his own. V straightens up and whips out her knife. There’s a click and the blade is pressed against the tall man’s neck. Lip curling, she leaned up and met his gaze.

“I suggest you fuck off back the way you came,” V hissed, “Or I’ll slit your pretty boy throat and see what color you paint the streets,” Her threat seemed to fall on flat ears, because in the next breath the man directed the blade back in her own direction. She blocked with her right forearm and skidded back a few paces. The streets would never be easy for a girl like her.

\---

Viktor looks at V and wonders if he should call Mama Welles. That woman would straighten his patient out something fierce. It would also do some good to have some motherly guilt around. Johnny Silverhand walking V’s body into his clinic had been unexpected and sobering. Scans show that there is an overtaxing of the nervous system. There’s literally just too much going on for the brain to properly process. V is a survivor though. Johnny had laid out in a recovery bed and let him administer a sedative with a smirk. That smirk was knowing and far too smug. Slowly but surely her vitals are improving. There is brain activity too, lighting up like a city block. Before he can think better of it, he’s hovering over her. He had meant what he’d said, that death left no beautiful corpses. God does he have a lecture planned for when V is vertical again. He clenches his jaw and checks her pulse. A heartbeat. Such a small and insignificant thing is so often taken for granted. The thrum is there beneath labored breathing. Viktor finds himself following every intake and exhale. There is peace and then there is what is lying before him. It’s a hard parallel to draw. Because at that exact moment V is quiet, face soft and relaxed. Yet all Viktor sees is the paleness of her skin and smeared makeup around her eyes and lips. Who knew smeared eyeliner and lipstick could be so fear inducing. 

It’s not the first all-nighter he’s pulled, just the first one in a while. All around the clinic the city buzzes. Clients and patients alike ring his phone. Still V sleeps. The coffee Misty brings him is a blessing. The aroma is intoxicating in the early morning hours. Viktor watches as she takes a wipe and clears away the dark smudges of makeup. Underneath is a frightfully pale and young face. It’s not the first time he’s seen it bare. This is just the first time she’s looked so weak.

“She’s not done yet,” Misty says almost to the empty air as she places a cool cloth on V’s forehead. He doesn’t know who those words are for. If they are for him, they are of little comfort. Viktor scrubs his palms over his face and lets out a deep breath. Praying doesn’t seem to help, neither does hoping.

“V doesn’t have much time left Misty,” The mental math and crunching numbers doesn’t help either.

“She’s not done.” Misty says and this time it's stated as fact. Simple and undeniable. Maybe it is.

\---

V hated the cops. Sitting in the middle of NCPD headquarters has reinforced that idea. They know nothing and can do even less. Her wrists are red and angry from the handcuffs that are on the side of too tight. Resisting arrest had not been the smartest idea. One of the officers had backhanded her and the metal plate inside his glove had split open her top lip. The interrogation room door opened and a female detective entered; she wore a suit and heels so high that they had to be impractical. 

“Andrea Valorie, age sixteen. Orphan. Your charges include aggravated assault with intent to kill and brandishing a deadly weapon.” V rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair. The detective sat down. She’s wealthy, V realized. The way she talked was just too proper.

“Listen lady,” V grumbled, “Have you ever had two grown-ass men try and snatch you off the streets? Had them try to rip off your clothes? No? If you don’t have a blade or a piece, the only thing you’ll end up as is dead. Torn apart or sold into prostitution. And I don’t know about you, but I would prefer to remain in one piece,” The words held vitriol and disdain. The cop listened and slid a file folder across the table.

“Well Andrea, today is your lucky day.” V opened the file and inside are the pictures of the two men. Beside their pictures was a list of crimes a mile long. Rape, extortion, murder, and a dozen other things. “Because you took down those two, you can collect two three star bounties for these men,” She looked up and blinked at the woman in surprise. Justice in night city was unheard of. Leaning over, the woman unlocked the cuffs on her wrists. An account transfer is wired to her chip and it was more eddies than she’d seen in her entire life.

“There has to be a catch,” V grumbled. The woman smirked and crossed his arms.

“You are free to go Ms. Valorie,”

\---

V wakes to the sound of beeping and gentle snoring. Everything hurts from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. Opening her eyes, she looks around and realizes where she is. A cold chill runs down her spine. Johnny, fucking Johnny is looking at her from the corner of the room. If it didn’t feel like her arm might fall off, she would chuck the nearby surgical tray at his head. Viktor is asleep, leaned forward at an awkward angle to rest against the side of her bed. Oh he is going to kill her. There is a hard line into one of the veins in her arm. A check on the IV bag states that it is just fluids.

“Figured it was time the good man knew what he was actually dealing with,” Johnny says and his words set off that resentment once more. Gingerly, V sits up slowly so as not to stir Viktor awake. Sometimes it is a blessing that she and Johnny can communicate without speaking.

“You know how I felt about this and you blatantly went against my wishes,” V is furious. There is a glitch and then he is resting at the end of the bed. His face is close to her own.

“Your a fucking liar and a good one at that V, but can’t hide the kind of shit you feel. So everything you feel when you go under, I feel. You’re scared shitless princess, utterly terrified. You’re a fucking coward,” Johnny’s harsh words set off intense rage in her system. But he isn’t entirely wrong. Breathing, she quiets those feelings down.

“So were you in the end,” She remembers the cold chill and the snap of agony, “Don't you dare judge me for how I've been handling it,” He doesn’t say much after that, finally quiet.

There is no way to get out of bed without waking Viktor. If she tried, V is relatively certain that would make the entire situation worse. So she leans against the wall the bed is pressed up against. Quiet like this is rare. Even more is the chance just to share space with another person. All her life V has been dealing with quiet loneliness. It’s not so bad, really. Being alone has hardened skin that would have been too soft otherwise. Viktor helps in times where that quiet gets terrifying. Hell he has made her body damn near unbreakable. She’s adores the hard man, gruff but loving. As he sleeps, she finds herself smiling. There are lines from age all across his face, still handsome.Despite calling himself old on multiple occasions there is no grey in his dark hair.The years have been kind to him. Perhaps there is something to the quiet life and sleeping through the night after all. V huffs and leans forward, no use in putting this off any longer. They both need to get up and crawl into their respective beds.

“Viktor,” She murmurs and rubs soft circles on his shoulder. He wakes slowly and it's like watching an old tom cat stir from slumber. He rises and cracks the bones in his neck and elbows. There is a moment of peace before his eyes narrow. V braces for impact.

She has her chin tucked to her chest and is waiting. Viktor is entirely silent, checking vitals and making notes. There is suddenly a very interesting rip in her jeans to fiddle with. Large hands grab her cheeks and bring her face up a little roughly. Viktor is looking into her eyes intently. He is much more angry than she had originally guessed.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” He snaps and she feels like she’s been slapped. That tone is reserved for difficult customers and once upon a time Jackie. She feels like shrinking back into the bed and going right back to sleep.

“No, I-” She stammers. The grip on her face tightens. Apparently the kiddie gloves are coming off for this conversation. There is none of that normal softness.

“Because let me tell you something V. I do not like surprises. And Johnny Silverhand striding into my office, wearing your body is a surprise. Him telling me that you seize and collapse frequently is a surprise,” Every word is bitten out, “And if you think that I am just going to let this go, let you pass quietly into the night without a word, then you are dreadfully mistaken.” He releases her cheeks and she tips her head back. The quiet is back, but this time there is an expectation to break the silence. To her horror tears are starting to pool at the corners of her eyes. With angry palms she wipes them away.

“I’m sorry,” She gasps out and it’s like opening the floodgates. The tightness in her chest is almost worse than the ache in her body. Strong arms pull her into his lap, one arm around the waist and the other cradling her head against his neck. V cries, mourns something that hasn’t even happened yet.

\---

Viktor holds V tight. Her chest is heaving and he feels like he’s got her back. It’s nearly impossible to be angry, nearly. Hurt is a more appropriate description of what he is feeling. But V is warm and so very alive under his hands, so human. Behind them is a hard backdrop of concrete and steel. Neon lights pour in from the streets above. City sounds are muffled. This was what he had originally expected, a break down. Fate seemed to have other things in store. He wants to shield her from it all, but Viktor knows she’ll be back on the streets come morning. Slowly she pulls away from him, her eyes searching his own. There’s a pause and it is heavy. V wipes her cheeks with sleeves of her rough cotton shirt. Those large eyes are shot red and irritated from tears. Adjusting in his lap, she swings her legs so each is bracketing his hips. The breath in his chest leaves him. Delicate fingers find his jaw and her brows are tilted up. 

“Just tell me no,” She says and presses her lips to his own. Suddenly, suddenly everything is sharp and focused. She’s desperate, he can feel it in the way her hips roll against his own. A moan is punched out of his throat before he can think as her lips migrate to his neck. Viktor’s hands come up to tangle in her hair. She makes a soft sound, low in her throat. He feels the scrape of teeth on his pulse. One hand leaves her hair and grabs on tightly to her hip. Pulling her closer, his head falls back. V is trying to overwhelm his senses, trying and succeeding. 

“V, stop.” Instantly the sensation is gone. Her hips are still pressed against his own and he can feel a tightness forming in his throat. Lord, does he want her. She’s still and unmoving in his arms, Viktor’s hand is still tangled in her hair. This has to be handled delicately. There is no room for error. Her pride will be wounded, but she’ll be okay. Leaning forward he presses a kiss to her cheek, lets it linger. She turns and meets his lips once more. It's a tentative kiss, unsure. Viktor lets her search, find a bit of comfort. He lets himself taste her, enjoy the heat of her body. Pulling back he cups her cheek.

“I’m not saying no, just not right now. Not like this,” He tells her and feels her shoulders slump, “You are vulnerable and raw right now. That’s not how I want you.”

\---

“I met a boy last night,” Charlotte said and V rolled her eyes at her sister. He had dropped her off back home after they’d spent the night together. V had watched as the two of them had shared a kiss. Everything about him had screamed corpo. From the perfectly groomed hair to his luxury car.

“Char, a guy like that is going to chew you up and spit you back out in weeks time. That or he wants you for something far more insidious. Get out Heywood. But fucking hell find a nice guy,” V told her and handed over their shared mascara. Charlotte was twenty, pretty, and restless. V was nineteen and a gun for hire. The two of them were close, but never really agreed about how unfair life was. Both of them were accomplished con artists though, just had different tactics. V was the muscle and Charlotte was the face.

“V some day you’re gonna meet somebody and you’ll understand,” Charlotte explained as she applied her lipstick, “Sometimes it’s a quick fuck and you’re on your way. Other times it’s slow and sweet. It feels like you’re burnin’ from the inside out.” V snorted and leaned her head on Charlotte’s shoulder.

“When this corpo bastard breaks your fragile little heart, sets you on fire, don’t come cryin’ to me.” Charlotte shoved her off and V had landed hard on the ground. It didn’t stop her from laughing.

\---

V drops the unconscious corpo agent at Rogue’s feet and lights a cigarette. The other woman smirks and slides her a shot. The two of them are not chooms, but it feels like they’ve known each other their whole lives.

“You’re in a mood,” Rogue observes and nods to her bodyguard to collect the unconscious man. Huffing, V knocks back her shot and removes her jacket. Johnny is pacing a hole in the floor a little ways away. The gentle and quiet respect she shows him for Kerry’s memories, do not extend to Rogue. No she drags him through the dirt and kicks him while he’s down. Because Johnny had actually loved Kerry in his own way. He just loved the idea of Rogue.

“Mood or not, I got what you were looking for. I disabled his biomon and tracker. No one is gonna’ come looking for this gonk,” V sits as soon as a seat is offered. Rogue takes the cigarette out from between her fingers and takes a drag. Setting a small tablet down on the table, V pulls up all the information of the requested job. Confidential corporate info is scrolled over and examined in detail.

“You got it done forty-six minutes after the job was issued and went the extra mile,” Rogue chuckles and the eddies are transferred, “Whatever is eating you is good for business.” She refills both their shot glasses and raises a toast. Johnny rolls his eyes. Right now the only fueling her is rage and the sting of rejection. It’s almost like the universe is laughing. But then again, this is how life has always been. 

“What can I say,” V savors the burn of the tequila, “I needed the distraction.” Rogue leans back and crosses her arms. There’s a knowing smirk on her face that is edged with sympathy. There is not enough alcohol or violence that can make things stop hurting.

“Whoever burned you should be ashamed. You’re a damn good woman and an even better solo,” Rogue taps her cheek with her finger, “You’ve made progress V, don’t let a bump in the road take that from you.” The advice is sound and she remembers that Rogue is an old hat at being left behind. 

“Look at us being all mushy,” V puts on a tone she knows will annoy Rogue. Those gentle fingers turn into a slap.

“Don’t get fresh with me,” Rogue arches a brow, “Now get out of here and order a drink...or five at the bar. It’s on me,” V laughs and dances out of their private room.

On the sixth drink, everything is getting a little bit fuzzy. V is reviewing information at the bar. Putting the pieces together is the most complicated part. Separating herself from Johnny is going to be a pain in the ass no matter which angle she looks at it from. Theoretically she has the majority of what would be needed, but is still missing some key elements.

“Hello beautiful.” A man says to her side and V blatantly ignores it. Claire is watching while she polishes glasses. Fingers wrap around her forearm, the grip falling on the side of too tight to be entirely friendly. 

“If you want to keep that hand, I suggest you remove it.” V doesn’t look up and continues reading. The thing is, she’s in a bar that is pretty much exclusively for solo mercs. They all drink hard, hit hard, and don’t know when to quit. 

“Just trying to pay a gorgeous woman a compliment,” The man says and slides his hand up her arm. Standing up and rolling her shoulders, she looks down at the man who is still seated. In a corner, she can see his buddies snickering. It’s honestly so annoying that V tucks her phone away and starts walking away from the bar. That hand is back on her arm. Sirens are screaming at the back of her mind. This idiot really has a death wish. There are about a dozen curious eyes looking on. Mercs are a nosy bunch.

“Last warning fucker,” She growls and his fingers tighten. V turns around, furious and blind with rage, and headbutts him. There’s a sickening snap of his nose and gush of blood. While he’s still reeling back, she plucks a bottle from the bar and cracks it over his head. In all of five seconds he’s gone from standing too tall, to lying out flat. The shattered glass is all over the floor. 

“Sorry about the mess Claire,” She says and transfers the woman a thousand eddies, “Want me to handle taking out the trash or do you want security to manage that?” Claire waves her off and there’s the smallest smile on her face. V walks out of Afterlife and ignores all other eyes.

Johnny is walking beside her. It’s still odd that she can see him in moments when her head is twisted by liquor. If anything, she half-expects him to fade into the background. His judgement is silent. The problem is they can always feel what the other is feeling. 

“Buzz off Johnny,” She whispers and zips up her jacket. He tips back his head and looks up at the night sky. She’s still too keyed up, too much adrenaline. Tyger Claws are prowling about the area tonight as well. V’s fairly certain they’re going head hunting. Thing is her face is now pretty well recognized by them after the Clouds incident. Not wanting to end up with a slit throat and left to die choking on their own blood, they give her a wide berth. 

“You’re acting like a child,” Johnny tells her. V lets out a scream of frustration. It would be so much better if she could actually throw hands with him. It would solve a lot of problems. 

“In case you haven’t noticed I have quite a bit going on at the moment. Forgive me if I am a little fucking angry!” She snarls, “Not only am I dying, I am stuck with you! Unable to have a moment’s peace to process anything.” V sparks up a cigarette and takes a long drag. Leaning back against a wall, she runs a hand through her hair. Night City is a cesspool, rotten to the core. It’s her home, but she feels like it is suffocating her slowly. Hell she wouldn’t be the first person that the city consumed. 

“Stop your bitchin’. Get up, go home and call Panam with your newest lead.” Johnny grouses. V takes a deep breath and looks up at the glowing neon and takes in the smells of home. Night City, it’s going to be the death of her. She finishes her cigarette and goes home.

The inside of her apartment looks like a bomb went off. Stray papers and half finished paintings sit scattered throughout the room. V pulls out Johnny’s pistol and sets it down on the desk next to Jackie’s guns. Everything in the apartment is a memento to someone else’s life. There is nothing here that is truly her own save for the clothes hanging in the closet. Some of it is just too precious to get rid of. V has lost so many pieces of herself in the past couple of weeks that nothing feels right anymore. It almost seems foolish to keep fighting. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. Stripping off her shirt, she walks to the bathroom and turns the water on. Soon steam is pouring out into the room. Kicking off her pants, V steps in. The water is hot, too hot. Scalding even. A part of her just wants to give up. Every day is growing to be more exhausting and disappointing than the last. But she’s not got it in her blood to stop fighting. If it kills her she will claw her way to the top. This isn’t about recognition or respect anymore. It’s about living. It’s about living through the good and the bad.

\---

The phone had buzzed at one in the morning. A photo popped up on screen. Charlotte’s delicate fingers and a beautiful silver wedding band stared back at her. V was alone. The apartment they once shared was empty. _Told you I was right,_ was the text that had followed. Their fight had been explosive. There had been screaming, a few random plates were smashed against a wall. The apartment is empty and V had never been more alone. She rolled over and screamed into her pillow. There was no more laughter or comforting smiles to be had between them. _I wish you the best Char,_ V typed out and tried not to feel betrayed. Night City, Heywood, would have eventually killed her. V knew that much for certain. The streets had made V as hard as steel, but that life wasn’t for everyone. Being alone, meant she would have to work twice as hard. A job was waiting for her in the morning, just had to klep something for The Padre. It would be fine. It would all be fine. It wasn’t the first lie she had ever told herself, but it was certainly the worst.

\---

The Aldecaldos greet her with handshakes and hugs. It is early enough that the majority of the camp isn’t up yet. The sun is just barely peeking over the top of rolling hills. Everything is bathed in dusty pink and warm orange light. Some views are worth braving the horrors of the early morning. There is a slow simmering pot of delicious looking food hanging over the fire. Panam is nowhere in sight, but Mitch is wandering over. A bowl of food is pressed into her hands. It smells spicy and hardy like most Nomad meals. There are actual potatoes and meat in the stew. To be honest the food alone could convince V to stay forever.

“Mornin’ V,” Mitch greets and offers her a smile. Sitting down, she inhales the food. After the last couple of days, a good meal is soul saving.

“Good morning, is Panam still asleep?” Mitch nods and passes her a canteen with water, “Well, while I wait do you need any help around here? My hands are yours until she’s up and about.” He laughs and kicks a tool box towards her. 

“You see that hunk of junk?” He points to an old motorcycle, “Go work on that. Should keep you busy.” The paint is peeling and there are obvious parts missing. But busy hands mean a quiet mind. Standing, she grabs the toolbox and makes her way over to the bike.

“Thanks Mitch,” She calls over her shoulder. The older man just smiles and clears away their dishes. V works until a familiar voice calls out her name.

Panam has her arms wrapped around V’s waist and is screaming something fierce in her ear. They are driving through the badlands at top speed on Scorpion’s bike. Panam Palmer might like cars, know a lot about them, Motorcycles are a different story entirely. V is laughing and she takes the time to appreciate the fact that Panam has a set of lungs that could deafen most people. They stop at the old radio tower and her grip doesn’t loosen. V plants her feet on the ground and waits.

“You’re a bitch,” Panam grumbles and slowly stands up. Looking over her shoulder, V smiles at her. Out of just about anyone alive on the planet, Panam is her favorite. There is a special, rather large spot in her heart reserved for the Nomad. It’s been a long time since she’s had a person in her life that feels like a sister. A sister that she can scream with, cry with, and fight next to is such a welcome thing. The Aldecaldos are one big messy family and they are working to save her sorry ass. V pulls out the axe that has been strapped to the back of the bike. Out in the badlands the air is fresh and in the morning the heat isn’t smothering yet. Even better is that the pollution doesn’t reach out this far. There is something special about spending the morning just basking in the cool air and sunlight.

“Come on,” V says and waves the other forward, “I came out here to rage and smash stuff. All the heavy lifting can wait until later.” There are dozens of old cars left ruined. V smashes the window of the first car she gets to and Panam hollers. A little destruction and exhaustion could solve any problem.

An hour later the two of them are lying in the sand, sweat slicked and breathing heavy. Panam rolls over and props herself up on her elbow. She’s got this look in her eye like she wants to say something but isn’t quite sure how to. That’s how everyone has been lately. 

“After all of this is over,” V murmurs, “I am going to take you up on your offer to join the Aldecaldos. I have had a shit ton of things to process in the last few days, but things are startin’ to fit together.” Panam frowns and reaches out with her free hand to twist a stray lock of V’s hair.

“You were a mess when you showed up and I mean that in the nicest way possible,” Panam snorts and V chuckles. It had been a bad last couple of days.

“If I tell you why,” V sits up and rolls her shoulders, “You’re going to laugh at me,” Panam swings into a sitting position, their knees knocking together. Nomads are a physically affectionate group; it had been a startling adjustment to learn physical touch could say just as much as words. 

“How about you tell me what’s eating you, and I’ll get that hair out of your face.” V turns and she feels Panam starts splitting her hair into sections. As she braids, there is an occasional harsh tug. V finds herself telling the whole story. The relic malfunction, how afraid she’d been, how she had made a fool of herself in front of Viktor. Panam is silent save for the occasional hum or tsk. When V is finally done telling her story, the other keeps braiding.

“Somehow you manage to be one of the bravest people I have ever met, and a goddamn coward.” This tug is a little harsher than the last. She doesn’t laugh at least.

“You’re the second person to tell me that recently and you're not entirely wrong,” V can admit that to herself. In the next moment she finds herself sprawled out in the sand, Panam looming over her and a finger in her face.

“V you are dying and it is quite possible there is no solution to your problem. So you got told no. I don’t blame the guy for telling you no! You don’t get to experience the horror of those malfunctions from the outside. He is literally watching you die,” Panam is genuinely upset, “So now that you are fine and dandy, you're going to drive me back to camp on your death machine. Then you are going to clean yourself up and go see him. Be honest, be you and nothing can go wrong.” V feels her lip quiver a bit. V never was good at being alone, but she had forgotten how good it felt just to have someone to call her on her shit.

“Okay I will,” She says with a small smile, “But can we stay here, just for a little bit longer?” Panam shuffles and pulls her head into her lap.

“Yeah, I think we can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore V a little bit. Enjoyed writing about her youth. Panam is one of my favorite characters; I love how genuine and free she is.


	5. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V owns exactly two dresses. One is reserved for missions when she needs the mark to stay focused on her tits. The other is the dress she wants to be buried in. Neither is appropriate for asking a dear friend to take you home for the night without looking like a sex worker on Jig Jig Street.

“ Love, hunt me down

I can't stand to be so dead behind the eyes

And feed me, spark me up

A creature in my blood stream chews me up

So I can feel something

Give me touch

'Cause I've been missing it

I'm dreaming of strangers

Kissing me in the night

Just so I

Can feel something”

“Touch”, Daughter 

V owns exactly two dresses. One is reserved for missions when she needs the mark to stay focused on her tits. Low cut and nearly an open back. The other is the dress she wants to be buried in. Neon green lace. Both are trashy. Neither is appropriate for asking a dear friend to take you home for the night without looking like a sex worker on Jig Jig Street. V lets out a sigh and stares into the mirror for a second.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Johnny looks her up and down, “To my utter surprise you clean up pretty well.” She can feel his mild appreciation of her appearance buzzing at the back of her skull. V scowls at him from the mirror. Apparently they’ve moved past their little spat.

“How do you woo a man that has quite literally been watching you die? Do I talk to him, buy him dinner?” She asks and Johnny makes a sound she cannot identify. But it sounds a bit like a man dying. He’s looking at her over the top of his shades with disapproval.

“For the love of god, you are not some whiny, prissy bitch. My bet is to walk into his clinic and drop your panties on the ground. Wear that velvet tight number. You’ll be set,” Honestly she shouldn’t have expected much. That plan is a disaster waiting to happen.Walking to the closet, she yanks on a tight pair of leather leggings and a low cut green tank top. V slips on her favorite jacket. Patches cover the fabric, little pieces of her life and history. Panam said to be herself, so that is what she is going to do.

Watson is rarely dull. The people are colorful, just as bright as the advertisements floating above them. There’s a rich culture and enormous diversity. It’s no Heywood, but it’s a second home. Some of the locals nod their heads as she passes by. Having a rep with with them means no disputes. It seems that the city has decided to slow down for the day. It's so rare that it is unsettling. V slides open the door to Misty’s and steps inside. She’s in the corner, hands playing absentmindedly with her tarot cards dice. Her face lights up when she spots V lurking in the doorway. At the top of the deck is the sun, radiant and knowing.

“Wonderin’ when you’d be by,” She is whispering which makes V take a second to look around. To her surprise Viktor is crashed out cold on the couch in the back of the shop. He is wearing plain scrubs and there is dried blood in his hair.

“What happened?” V crosses her arms and lets Misty lean against her back, chin hooked on her shoulder. She soaks in the heat and comfort.

“Client came in last night. Wounded just about as bad as you where when Takemura brought you here. He flatlined about two hours ago. Took a lot out of Vik.” Misty pressed a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll make some tea. We can catch up while he rests,” V follows her out of the shop and into Viktor’s clinic. Tucked away in the corner is a small electric kettle. A good cup of tea will settle any of her remaining nerves. A good jasmine always settles her nerves.

They’re laughing to themselves. Misty’s is high and trilling, tears slipping from her eyes. V’s clutching her belly and laughing into her palm. Her cheeks hurt.

“Why didn’t he tell me that story?” Misty snorts. V remembers Jackie's face after getting dressed down by a Doll at gunpoint. There were a few moments that were solely for them, that V would take to the grave. That beautiful moment was not one of them. Somewhere in heaven he was looking down and cursing her name. He had begged her not to say anything as she stifled a smile and a laugh. At the time V had just been along for the ride.

“He was plenty embarrassed,” V tells her, “Couldn’t ruin his rep like that.” The gate slides open and Misty shoots V a knowing look. Viktor is looking at the two of them with a cocked brow. V scrubs her palms against her jeans and stands. Helping Misty up, she hugs the other woman.

“Good luck. I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” She whispers in V’s ear. V smiles and pulls back.

“Go on then,” She tells her, “And thank you for the tea,” As Misty walks up the stairs, her heart is pounding in her ears.

\---

V is standing in the corner of the room with her fingers tracing the lip of her tea cup. She looks healthy, her cheeks and nose are slightly red from a sun burn. It makes her freckles stand out. Viktor knows she is nervous. Can tell by the way her eyes are focused on the ground and her breath is coming out in short little puffs. To be honest it's the most precious thing.

“I figured it was time I swung around, been twiddling my thumbs long enough.” He approaches her and sits on the counter. There are intricate braids piled into a messy bun atop her head, the hair at the nape still shorn close to the scalp. Taking a deep breath she hops up on the counter next to him and their shoulders brush.

“It’s alright V, I am a patient man.” What he doesn’t tell her is how the fear had started creeping in. Fear that the next time he’d see her, would be in the final moments of her life. Patience is important, but so is knowing when to dive straight in.

“So listen, I’m no good at this kind of stuff. Dealing with emotions and using my words has never been a strong suit of mine,” She’s speaking fast and her brow is pinched, “But I am dying. If everything was fine, I would be doing this the right way. Each day is getting harder, but I want to spend those days with you. If you’ll have me. And I can’t promise what the end of this story is going to be, but I will try my hardest to come home to you at night...if that’s what you want.” Her entire face is red and she’s about to bury it in her hands. Viktor reaches out and catches the hand closest to him. He slides off the counter and steps between her legs.

“All I ask is that you’re honest with me. My heart can’t take another incident like the other night. If you need help, you ask. If you need someone to patch you up, I’ll be here.” He tips her chin up, “And if you want to come home to me at the end of the night, that would make me a very happy man.” Viktor leans in and kisses her. This is their first kiss, he thinks. V has a gentle hand resting on his jaw, the other sits at his hip. Her lips are soft and searching, not tentative. It’s perfect. She’s perfect.

\---

V is fairly certain she might just combust. How tenderly Viktor is holding her makes her heart ache. A long night’s worth of stubble scratches against her skin. She leans into the touch, chest brushing against his own. There is something in the air. Her own caution holding her back. V doesn’t want to ask for too much, move too fast. When his tongue brushes her lips, she lets out a shaky moan. Everything shifts. Hands find the back of her knees and slide her forward on the counter. Heat coils inside her. It’s a slow burn. But oh god is it amazing. She bites at his lower lip for a moment and his grip tightens. He moves from her mouth, lips trailing down her jaw to her neck. A playful bite has her laughing low in her throat. Viktor’s hands move up her thighs and come to rest on her hips. Slowly he leans back, but not before placing one more kiss to her lips. He takes in a deep breath.

“Well that went better than the first time,” She breathes out and smirks. The way he’s looking at her is filled with so much want that for a moment she is disarmed. His finds its way to her cheek and V leans into the touch.

“Yes it did, but my next appointment is on their way.” His voice is rough and low, “You’re welcome to come over tonight when the threat of a client walking in on us is a zero percent chance,” He tells her. V takes his hand and hops off the table. She laughs and looks up at him.

“Well Doctor Vector, that is an offer I will absolutely take you up on. Just let me know when your free.” She kisses his cheek and walks towards the exit. There is a little extra spring in her step as she leaves.

The nerves are there...for no reason. Blue pills wait on the bathroom counter. Dragging the razor across her legs, V makes eye contact with Johnny. Which turns out to be a mistake.

“Take the blockers,” He growls. She sighs and checks for stubble. It’s been awhile since she has had to worry about grooming to this extent.

“What, don’t want to experience the true joys of the female orgasm?” She asks. Johnny squints at her and throws his hands in the air.

“I get plenty of that when you get frisky before bedtime. What I do not need to experience is you getting handled by another man,” He states with a certain level of bitterness that V does not have the strength to examine.

“Fine,” She offers a smile, “But you and I both know-” In a moments notice he is gone without a trace. Left to the silence of her own head she examines what this means for her. V has known Viktor for a while now. What gets her is how he won’t accept her situation. That he won’t let let her take the easy way out. Cause she is backed into corner and it feels nice to have someone keeping her upright. She sends a silent prayer and thank you to whoever is listening for sending her Viktor. Shutting off the water, V dresses. Waiting is always the hardest part.

\---

There is a knock at the door half-past seven in the evening. Viktor stands from his couch and answers the door. V is standing outside, leaning on the door frame. There is a cocky grin on her face. The clothes she wears are plain. He had been expecting more of a show, but is pleasantly surprised to see her looking like herself.

“Hey,” She greets and he can tell she’s a little nervous. The confidence is a mask. A terrible ill fitting mask. Viktor extends his hand and she takes it. Guiding her into his apartment, he settles them into the kitchen.

“You have an honest to god stove,” She breathes and Viktor laughs. One thing he knows is that V loves to cook. Planting a glass of wine in her hand, he just studies her face. The way her eyes crinkle at the corner when she smiles is his favorite thing.

“How was the rest of your day?” He asks and sits next her at the bar. Her hair is still damp from a shower.

“Rather uneventful,” She answers, “I didn’t actually do anything physical, more planning. Didn’t want to risk getting shot today,” And suddenly Viktor understands Misty and Jackie’s relationship so much more. That carefree feeling suddenly turns to low humming anxiety at the thought. It's dark and unwanted. Once she's done with the engram business, he could very well help her retire. As the best ripper in Watson, the funds in his pockets aren't light by any means.

“What about you Vik? Anything interesting in your day?” She takes a sip of her wine. 

“Nothing much, just a couple of mercs needed their tech upgraded.” He finishes his wine and stands, “But that’s enough of that.” V finishes her wine as well and stands. Their close enough that her shoulder brushes his chest. She’s a small woman, more than a head shorter than him. Her hand wraps around the back of his neck, and that grin is back.

"Enough of what exactly?" She's trying to be coy, but knows what it really is. It's dipping a toe into the water to make sure it's safe. That's the beautiful thing. V doesn't always know when she's wanted. Viktor leans down and presses a kiss to her waiting lips.

"Enough small talk and wasting time," He replies

“Lead the way.”

Viktor breathes out a heavy breath as she lifts her shirt over her head. Black lace and twisting vines greet him. So she put on a show after all, he acknowledges. He reaches out and grabs her hair, tangling his fingers in it. A breathy moan is punched out of her chest. Viktor leans down and kisses her. He has touched her a thousand times, built pieces of her body, but this is different. Time and propriety aren’t an issue. Viktor can feel soft skin, enjoy the heat, and trace the lines of her curves.

“Appreciating your work?” V says against his mouth. Her hands are pushing up his shirt, fingertips dancing dangerously across skin. Viktor chuckles and undoes her belt, hips sway.

“I am appreciating you,” He answers and pops the button of her pants open. Lilacs encircle a hip. Her knees are backed against the bed. Slow and methodical she eases back, sliding her pants down her legs. When she reaches for him, he follows like a moth drawn to a flame. In the low light, bathed in neon, she glows. Viktor braces himself and kisses her again. Teeth tug at his lower lip, a sharp sting. He reaches down pulling her leg over his hip. Her breath stutters and he has never heard a more beautiful sound.

Viktor should know by now how dangerous those hands are. Her fingers are threaded through his hair and her legs are tossed over his shoulders. V is loud and he loves it. She takes her pleasure and he loves that even more. As teeth graze her clit she startles and tugs on his hair a little harsher. 

“Y-your going to kill me,” Her voice is low and rough, breath coming fast. He relents and trails kisses up her stomach. He bites at the skin between her breasts and her back arches beautifully. Those fingers in his hair become insistent. Guiding him up, she meets his mouth, tongue dancing across his own. V grinds against him. That desperation is back, but this time he welcomes it. With a twist of her body, she rolls them.

“Fuck,” He growls as she clutches his jaw with one hand. Nails bite into flesh. With her free hand she tugs down his underwear. He barely has time to kick them off before she’s rolling her hips. Its wet heat against cock. As she rocks back and forth, she smiles down at him.

“Sure you wanna’ do this?” Her eyelids flutter. Viktor grabs her hips and pulls her against him, teasing turns into burning. On that first thrust her head rolls back and V lets out a moan that shakes him to his core. Viktor is a patient man, but he has waited too long for this.

\---

V wakes to the sound of gentle snoring in her ear and light shining in her eyes. The windows are wide open, sounds of the city bounce around the apartment. An arm is slung across her back, and that scent she has been chasing for weeks is heavy on the pillow she’s buried her face into. Everything is warm and safe. Nothing, not even the end of the world could disturb this peace. It’s too bright she realizes suddenly.

“Oh so now you notice,” Johnny smirks in his corner. As gently as she can, V rolls over and for a second she forgets how to breathe. Viktor is a different man while he sleeps. Any of his hard lines evaporate alongside his gruff demeanor. She indulges for a moment, fingers tracing his face. Slowly he stirs. Eyes blink open.

“I think we might have overslept Vik,” she grumbles softly. He breathes out and sits up slow. Viktor turn and lets his eyes trace over her. A blush rises from her chest to her cheekbones. Leaning over he places a kiss to the center of her chest.

“It’s fine, I canceled all my appointments for the day. Don’t have anywhere to be.” A hand finds its way between her legs. It is simply not fair, how talented the man is at being exactly what she needs. V lets out a shaky laugh and spreads her legs.

“Well you have exactly an hour,” She tells him and lets the lazy morning mood overtake her, “I have places to be.” Oh she could live like this for the rest of her life. Nothing compares. Not even Johnny’s protests ringing in her ears could tear her out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this update took me so long. Work and life have thrown me a couple hard balls lately so I have been trying to write in my spare time. Stay safe, stay happy, and stay kind. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I am editing these while sleep deprived so I apologize for any errors.


	6. Aerials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death isn’t frightening or daunting, no she embraces it with open arms. This isn’t the end, just a different beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending was sad and I didn't want to keep it that way.

“ Life is a waterfall

We're one in the river

And one again after the fall

Swimming through the void

We hear the word

We lose ourselves

But we find it all?

'Cause we are the ones that want to play

Always want to go

But you never want to stay

And we are the ones that want to choose

Always want to play

But you never want to lose”

“Aerials”, System of a Down

Viktor wakes with a start in the night. V isn’t in bed, the covers are tossed back and her side is still warm. The bathroom light is on. For a moment there is a panic inducing silence. His feet hit the floor before he can think. Coughing, violent and wet echoes in empty space. Throwing open the door, he finds her sitting with her back against the tub. She’s still in one of his old t-shirts, legs bare. Blood stains her lips.

“Hey baby.” She offers him a weak smile, “Didn’t want to wake you,” There is a quiver in her voice as she speaks. Green eyes are glassy, unfocused. Viktor sits down on the cold tile floor with her. It takes more strength than he realized he possessed to just let their silence linger. Oh does it linger. V has told him, told him she is so close to figuring this all out. That the next few days are going to be rough, but that everything is going to be sorted. What he doesn’t say is that the symptoms might just catch up before they get the chance. Neither of them point out she’s gone partially deaf in one ear or that she has entirely lost her peripheral vision. They don’t talk about the fact that she has lost all sensation in her hands from the neural degradation or that she talks out loud to Johnny. They don’t say it because it makes things that much worse. It would make things real. Because if she isn’t successful, if this doesn’t work, V wants these moments to be beautiful. Honesty, he had asked for honesty. Now it just feels like a slap to the face.

“Well the bed got cold,” He pulls her against his shoulder. Soft curls tickle his cheek and she laughs softly. Her fingers wrap around his forearm. Despite everything the nails are still perfectly manicured.

“I am going to meet with Hanako Arasaka tomorrow,” She is quiet and the mood is somber, “I’ll be making a decision about what to do after that. Once all my options are on the table,” V wipes her mouth and presses a kiss to the temple. She stands, legs waver unsteadily. Viktor helps her back to bed and holds her a little tighter. Takes in her warmth, her scent, and commits it memory.

\---

Hanako reminds V of her sister. There is a quiet arrogance that tells her all she needs to know. That she is a player just like Yorinobu, just smarter. Holy fuck V might be dying, but she has never been a sell out. Those lines she is being fed are straight out of a corporate textbook. There is a stinging in her chest as she stands and downs the ridiculously expensive shot of vodka next to her. V looks Hanako in the eyes.

“I suggest you take a vacation from Arasaka tower for the next week or so,” The Arasaka heir looks at her curiously. V knows she doesn’t understand, it is unfathomable that someone might refuse an offer from the world’s most powerful woman. Head cocked to the side, Hanako looks like a snake poised to strike. V leans in close, so that her lips brush the other woman’s ear. The guards get real tense, hands falling to their sidearms. “Because whatever happens next, you want to be as far away from it as possible.” V staggers away, head screaming. Once in the elevator she feels Johnny starting to take over. For that she is eternally thankful. He slams the button and V doesn’t even bother fighting. 

“I got you,” He murmurs as the light fades behind her eyes.

There are a few moments in V’s life that run on repeat. Falling in love for the first time, and having it broken a few days later. Atlanta and it’s slow lifestyle and unyielding heat. Jackie Welles pointing a gun at her head. Mama Welles being a mother to her. Dexter Deshawn’s cigar smoke and glittering necklaces. Jackie kissing her for the first time, the smell of his cologne, and his hands on bare flesh. Falling through the top of Arasaka, and fighting like hell to survive. The fading light in Jackie’s eyes and then her own life being snuffed out. V remembers those things. They run over and over in her head like a broken record. Those moments though, were steps on a path. That path has been nothing but pain and sacrifice over and over again. It is exhausting. Yet there are the little stops along the way, people who have waved her down. Judy in all of her nihilistic optimism. Panam’s warmth and rage. Misty’s quiet stability and unrepentant destiny. Takemura’s honor and sense of duty. Kerry’s melancholy and friendship. Rogue’s determination and defiance. Viktor’s love and devotion. All those people have shaped her, reformed her into something better. V could die happy knowing that they are still alive, happy. The journey isn’t finished though, no she’s got miles to go before she can rest.

\---

Viktor hears the gate slam open. V is standing there, blood leaking from her nose and mouth. Misty is holding her up, baring most of the weight. The patient on Viktor’s table blinks in surprise. It’s not her, Viktor realizes. That is not V controlling the body. It’s in the pinched brows and burning eyes. Johnny Silverhand is riding that body, the woman he loves, into the clinic.

“You might want to delta,” Johnny says to the patient in the chair and the wise man follows the instruction. Misty helps them forward into the room. Viktor is running and picking V up before he can really think. A quick scan tells him all he needs to know. Her body, her mind, is at the end of its leash. The final tipping point. Several core functions are overloading. It is just too much for the brain to handle.

“What happened?” Viktor jacks into her biomon. Synapses are firing, but there is a large portion of her body that just isn’t responding.

“Seizure. Had to use what little energy she had left in the tank to get her here. V doesn’t have a whole lot of time left,” It is a fair assessment. Johnny might have been the one speaking, but it is her voice. It sets off a whole lot of ugly feelings. The man wearing her skin looks at him and nods his head, like he came to a decision. Administering a sedative, Viktor leans forward and kisses her brow. Johnny closes those eyes, but says one final thing. “Set her fucking straight, one last time. Cause she is gonna get herself fucking killed.” The arm wrapped around his shoulder falls limp.

\---

They fight and it is possibly the worst spat they’ve ever gotten into. Her own voice sounds foreign in her head as she shouts. V is barely able to sit up, but she’s brimming with mental clarity. Viktor is in front of her, begging for this to end. Misty is standing in the corner and listening. Standing is a Sisyphean task that is getting rather old. It should not be hard to simply stand. Every muscle aches. The world spins and flashes vibrant shades of neon blues and pinks. Viktor’s back is to her, a hand covers his mouth. Those little moments are on replay again. Those little flashes of life bounce around. Grabbing the pills and the gun, she walks over to Viktor. Taking his chin and turning his head, she places a firm kiss to his mouth. There are tears gathering in both of their eyes as she pulls away.

“I’ll be back soon,” She tells him and smooths the furrow between his brow, “Got promises to keep and people to get home to.” The walk out of the clinic feels like a funeral march. Misty is holding her hand; V holds it tight, let’s out a sob. Johnny is following, but it doesn’t seem like he has much to add. What a tragedy they are. She is a walking corpse and he is an engram locked away within arms reach of living. What a cruel twist of fate. There is no perfect option to get out of this alive and well, not for both of them. 

The roof is a special place. A quiet place. V didn’t realize that Jackie had come here too. Didn’t realize his presence could be felt even without him being there. Misty sits next to her, the plastic lawn chairs feel like a throne. V lights a cigarette, breathes in the smoke. The harsh bite of menthol sits heavy on her tongue. Night City is laid out bare; the neon lights are blinding and chrome sounds echo like drums in the early evening. What comes next is like taking a cyanide pill or burning alive. There are no great options. Not everyone will walk out unscathed. V sets the pistol down next to her, giving herself a moment to just look at it. This city has been a home for almost three decades. It could very well be a place of rest soon.

“I’ll leave you be,” Misty says and stands. It takes a moment to process what she’s saying. Catching her hand, V looks up at her. Stares into those eyes. Eyes that have met her own a thousand times star back.

“If somethin’ happens, you take care of him. Do you understand me?” Her lower lip quivers. Misty bends and presses a kiss to her cheek, their own little tradition. She smells of sandalwood and bergamot from the incense in the shop.

“Nothing is gonna happen,” She tells her, “You’re going to come home to us in one piece,” For some reason it seems like Misty might be wrong this time.

Johnny is restless while waiting for her to finish the smoke in hand. V doesn’t see a point in rushing that. Could very well be their last one. 

“Hey Johnny,” She says and leans forward, “If you could have said goodbye to Alt...to Kerry...to Rogue would you have?” V asks. He takes off his shades and sets them down on the concrete. His eyes are soft and sad as he looks at her.

“Difference between you and me is that you know you’re going to die if this doesn’t work. At the time, I never thought to say goodbye. Was on top of the world and nothing was going to bring me down,” Johnny speaks. V looks at him for a moment. He’s frozen in time, not much older than her. Perhaps that’s why he never seemed like a legend, just a man. Together they have fallen, been broken, and put their lives back together. Unlikely friends, but friends nonetheless. In the last few weeks she has lived more than ever before. That is in part thanks to him.

“When we get to the other side,” She says, “Promise me one thing. If I can’t safely take over my body again. You’ll take it and live,” He comes to stand before her, hands cupping her cheeks. It’s a lie. A lie a dying brain tells to a desperate body. That the two are touching, comforting one another.

“No promises kid,” He tells her, “Just make your decision and go from there.”

\---

The Aldecaldos are carrying the weight of her demise on their shoulders. V feels so at home with them that guilt of what is to come has already hung over her shoulders. Saul is watching over her as she hides from the rest of the family. Tucked away in the tent, he holds her hair back as she retches up blood. The two of them haven’t always gotten on, but she is determined to make him see her as an ally and family. He seems to understand that she wants what little of her remains of her dignity to stay intact. He braces her back up against his chest, and just lets the waves of nausea come and go. 

“Thank you,” She murmurs and wipes the blood from her chin. Saul snorts and smooths back the mess of hair. That would be the Aldecaldo brand of comfort, even amongst uncertainty.

“You have someone waiting for you, right?” He says and there is gentle tugging as her hair is pulled up into a tight bun. It feels good just to be taken care of.

“Yes, I do. Though he isn’t over the moon with me at the moment. The last few days have been less than preem.” It has been blood and pain, with a side of rage. Saul laughs and just breathes with her. The two of them stay silent for a few moments. Everything is shaking, from the tips of her toes to her wobbly head.

“Well I expect he understands that you’re in a tight spot right now. I know that if I was in his shoes, I’d be expecting that you’d be walking back into my life. You understand?” He tells her. V chuckles and stands on shaking legs. How she is going to manage the fight of their life is beyond her at the moment. But she is a fighter, and always will be. Turning, she pats his cheek. The lines of a hard life crease his face, but they do not detract from the kindness of those eyes or smile tugging at the lips.

“Thank you Saul,” She tells him, “For allowing me this, and allowing me to be a part of this family. It means the world.” He lightly punches her shoulder and waves her out of the tent.

“C’mon a little beer will settle that stomach and get you ready to face whatever comes tomorrow.”

In no way were they ready. Ready to face all of this. V is hanging on by a thread when Adam Smasher caves Sauls head in. Something inside her, that little bit of Johnny that lays etched into her soul flares with rage. She is letting out a battle cry and is on her feet before she can think. It’s a bloody, messy fight. Both Smasher and herself are little more than barely standing skeletons by the end of it. V leans in real close and studies his face for a moment; more machine than man, whoever he might have been is gone.

“I remember you well. Told Johnny you’d kill him in another life. Well he is right here. Locked away at the moment but still present,” She says and watches those eyes dance over her face, “Well he sends his regards. Rot in hell you piece of shit!” She pulls the trigger, the recoil feels like a thousand pounds in her hand. Panam is just as angry as V is. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Panam is dragging them to the finish line. Mikoshi looms like a beacon ahead of them. As she jacks in, V looks to her friend one last time. Taking in the worried lines of her face. Death isn’t frightening or daunting, no she embraces it with open arms. This isn’t the end, just a different beginning.

Johnny greets her with open arms, they embrace as old friends. Even in a place like Mikoshi, he feels so very real. For the first time she wonders what he sees when he looks at her. Does he see her or a version of himself staring back at him. They are so tangled, like twisting vines creeping up crumbling walls. Flowers are rare where they come from, but she sees him in the ivy that refused to die on her megabuilding. They’ve been separated from one another, she can feel it in her bones. V is dead and all that remains of her is a copy held in the hands of Alt. It is an odd thing to ponder.

“Go live your life kiddo,” Johnny tells her and grabs the side of her face. V touches him for a moment, letting her fingers trace the edge of his jaw. That is a memory that will stay. The feeling of his stubble and soft smile on his lips.

“Once I return you to your body, the nanotech will start to repair your damaged brain cells,” Alt speaks and it feels like the hammer of god is about to fall down upon them, “You will remain unconscious for an undetermined amount of time while your body heals. Once the engram has successfully taken hold, it will be like none of this ever happened. You will be you, and you alone.” It is of little comfort to know that she will survive. A part of her just wishes to stay. As V lays back into the well, she takes Johnny’s hand.

“I’ll talk to Kerry and Rogue,” She says quickly, “And I will play Samurai at my goddamn wedding and funeral. Someday when it is my time to go, I’ll see you on the other side.” Johnny just smiles as everything narrows to a singular point of light.

\---

The woman, Panam, deposits V into his arms. They both are filthy, covered in blood and dirt. For some reason V is soaking wet. Yet the nomad smiles like she has won the lottery. Viktor looks down and sees that V is breathing, her chest rises and falls. There is a soft smile on her lips.

“She fought like hell to get back here, you know?” Panam is looking at him with a knowing expression and a softness that Viktor isn’t sure he deserves. There is a tight jacket with the Aldecaldo’s symbol wrapped around V’s shoulders. Panam helps him place V into bed and strip the clothes off her, taking the time to fold each piece. A blanket is pulled over a bare body.

“Will she-” His voice breaks as he tries to speak. So far he has been unwilling to scan her, to see the damage. Panam wraps a hand around his wrist and smiles big and bright.

“The AI told me her body will need time to heal. Right now there are micro-processes going on. But she will be fine, just needs to rest.” This nomad woman carries the optimism he cannot bring himself to have, “Let me say this now. You and her are welcome amongst our people anytime. She is family to me, by extension so are you. If you guys need a break from the big city. Let me know. A vacation might do you some good.” Panam pats his shoulder and heads for the door. Viktor doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. V kept her word. Now all that’s left is a waiting game.

\---

Mama Welles cuffs V on the back of her head. Viktor sits tall and silent. The two of them are being lectured at something fierce. To her credit, Mama Welles is trying her best not to cry and so is V.

“Are you crazy mija?” She tsks at V. This is all being done at the dinner table, enchiladas steam a mere arm’s length away. V takes the woman’s hand, she isn’t one hundred percent yet so she has to turn her entire body to see properly. Misty is there too, watching on with some amusement. Whatever issues she and Mama Welles had are long buried. 

“It is just for a little while mama,” V tells her, “I cannot stay in this city right now. Plus what other chance am I gonna get, a girl from Heywood, to see the New USA in full. We will write and call.” She pats the other woman’s hand and turns back to the food that is being served on her plate. 

“You better,” Mama Welles instructs and puts down a healthy portion of rice, “I am not attending a second funeral. Do you understand me. While you are with those Aldecaldos you remember where you came from. You come home to me.” Well if Mama wills it into being, it will be so. Viktor leans over and presses a kiss to V’s temple. They couldn’t leave Night City without a proper send off and dinner. That would be inexcusable.

“Don’t worry Mama Welles, I’ll get her back to you in one piece.” Viktor assures her and takes a bite of the food. It’s spicy, almost painfully so. V and Misty are eating it no problem. So he takes a moment to be thankful for them, for this. That they have this opportunity at all is still hard to wrap his mind around. But god is he thankful.

\----

They stop in Colorado on their tour of the US. It’s a little nothing town that they camp outside of. Out in the country the stars are so bright and the air is clean. Cacti and coyotes are the only things within miles of the camp. Viktor appreciates the quiet and the silence. Turns out that Nomads need good ripperdocs just as much as city folk. They need good mercs too. V fits in with the Aldecaldos. They hold together, an unbreakable unit. Every night he goes to sleep knowing exactly where he’ll be come morning and that she will be right beside him. It takes time, but she learns how to sleep through the night too. Gone are the days of chasing glory and reputation. It does wonders for both of their health. V is covered in freckles and her hair is wild most days; She wears more t-shirts than bulletproof vests . Viktor wears his scrubs, the same as in Night City. Though these days they see far less blood than back home. It is a perfect and relatively quiet life. 

Viktor wakes in the night to soft lips moving against his neck. Hands are tracing along his hip and legs are tangled with his own. That is one thing that has taken a while to get used to. Waking next to a woman who wants him everyday of his life.

“You aim to wake the camp?” He tangles a hand in her hair. Lips curl into a smile against the column of his neck. A hand raises to gesture to the concrete building they’re set up in. A rare bout of privacy. 

“I am aiming for a bit of fun before my mission today,” She moans as he pulls her head back and kisses her lips. Her hand slips into his pants and wraps around his cock. Viktor bites her lip harshly. With a shove to the shoulder, he finds himself looking up at her. The angle is magnificent. Without much preamble she slides onto him, the breath punching out of her chest. V rolls her hips slow and unhurried, eyes on his. They don’t have to be frantic anymore. Together they have learned how to slow down and appreciate the moments like this. Viktor places a hand between her breasts and slides it up until he reaches her throat. Gently he pulls her down for another kiss, the metal bars through her nipples are dragging against his chest. It is the smell of her skin and her voice in his ear whispering filthy things that sends him over the edge moments after her. V lays on his chest, her hand tracing senseless patterns against the skin. The quiet life has done them good.

\---

The Coyote is packed with familiar faces. Never Fade Away plays low in the background. Mama Welles is smiling as V slips into the dress. All of the Aldecaldos, half of Heywood, half of Watson, and old friends are packed into the bar. Kerry is there, Rogue too. Surprisingly the two of them make quite the odd friends.

“You look beautiful,” Mama Welles tells her and finishes straightening out the small train. V feels a bit like an exotic bird, but this isn’t for her. No, this is for everyone who had placed their bets. Judy was the winner at three years on the dot. She even ventured her way back to the city proper for this. V tries not to be offended that a wedding is what it took to see her face again.

“It’s all a formality,” V huffs as the laces are tightened. Glancing over her shoulder, she looks at the picture of Jackie on the wall. Oh that is an ache that has yet to fade. Closing her eyes she says a quiet thank you to him, for everything. Even if he isn’t here right now, she can still feel him in the space.

“Weddings, like funerals, are for the guests. It is a time to celebrate, drink, and remember.” Mama Welles clutches her cheeks. Misty is sitting on a nearby couch, eyes full of mirth. Viktor and V fought over who got to have her in their wedding party. In the end he had won. Judy and Kerry were hers, for better or for worse. Kerry plops a shot glass into her hand and fills it to the brim. V’s stomach churns. The bachelorette party had been more than she had been anticipating. Judy wraps an arm around her shoulders and grins like the devil.

“Bottoms up babe,” She laughs as V knocks back the shot. Misty comes over and the two of them share a glance.

“I’m gonna go check on Vik before he rattles out of his bones,” Misty says and V cracks a smile. Whatever the future holds, damn will it be beautiful. Everything, every bit of agony and pain, brought her here. With these people. So let them celebrate, V thinks, and tips her chin up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has supported this work. A little background is that I am from out west. My best friend was Mexican American growing up, so Jackie's character and family were a breath of fresh air. There will be more works in the future; be safe and be kind.
> 
> Thank you again!

**Author's Note:**

> Saying goodbye to Jackie hurts like. This is a little bit of an AU; how does someone pick up the pieces of their life after their best friend dies and they're close to following in their footsteps.
> 
> P.S. I have headcannnoned that V and Jackie had their one time and that it became bittersweet. An Almost.


End file.
